M 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


p^j,4bki<X)U.^iV' 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED, 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2009  with  funding  fron:i 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hil 


http://www.archive.org/details/flowerdehundredsOOharr 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED 


Zbc  Stor?  of  a  IDirginia  plantation 


BY 

MRS.  BURTON  HARRISON, 

AUTHOR   OF    "  THE  ANGLOMANIACS,"  ETC.,  ETC.,  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

CASSELL    PUBLISHING    COMPANY 

104  &  106  Fourth  Avenue 


Copyright,  1890,  by 
CASSELL  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved. 


THE  MERSHON  CO.    PRESS, 
RAHWAY,    N.   J. 


TO     THE     MEMORY     OF 


602945 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 


The  author,  who  has  written  what  here  follows  that 
to  her  readers  of  the  generation  of  to-day  some  of  the 
social  aspects  it  portrays  may  be  better  understood, 
desires  to  say  that,  while  the  main  incidents  of  the 
story  are  based  upon  facts  more  or  less  known  in  the 
Southern  country,  she  has  in  no  case  fitted  them  to 
actual  personalities  or  localities. 

The  Sea  Urchins,  Bar  Harbor, 
October,   1890. 


Flower  de  Hundred. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Far  down  the  winding  river  named  in  honor  of 
King  James  by  the  navigators  Newport  and  Smith,  who 
wrested  from  the  dusky  dwellers  on  its  banks  an  earlier 
right  to  call  it  for  their  sovereign  King  Powhatan, 
stands  an  old  brick  house.  With  spreading  wings  and 
airy  colonnades  it  is  a  type  of  the  stately  by-gones 
of  Virginia's  ancient  aristocracy  now  crumbling  to  sure 
decay.  Surrounding  its  lawns  and  rose-gardens  are 
marshes  full  of  game,  wheat  fields  and  tobacco  fields 
still  ready  to  answer  to  a  fructifying  touch,  tall  forests 
of  unbroken  shade.  Wars,  more  than  one,  and  Indian 
massacres  and  forays,  have  swept  over  it  to  leave  no 
enduring  trace.  What  damage  the  centuries  could  do, 
Nature,  with  gentle  diligence,  has  overlaid  with  moss, 
with  grass,  with  bracken,  and  with  innumerable  flowiers. 

Happier  in  fortune  than  most  of  their  contempora- 
ries, the  family  still  controlling  the  numerous  acres  of 
the  estate  is  by  direct  descent  the  same  which  in  the 

I 


2  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

person  of  a  cadet  of  an  English  house  established  itself 
here  shortly  after  King  Charles  was  beheaded. 

Originally  a  separate  district  or  Hundred,  the  place 
retained  the  name  bestowed  on  it  in  early  colonial 
days,  which  has  been  successively  written  "Flower 
dieu,"  "Fleur  de,"  and  "Flower  de"  Hundred.  The 
Throckmortons,  who  have  been  in  every  generation 
conservative  folk,  tenacious  of  keeping  things  as  their 
fathers  left  them,  and  disinclined  to  idle  changes, 
would  as  soon  think  of  selling  the  silver  chalice  pre- 
sented by  Queen  Anne  to  their  parish  church,  as  of 
attempting  to  improve  on  the  quaint  name  of  their 
ancient  home. 

To  make  clear  the  position  of  affairs  at  the  begin- 
ning of  my  story,  which,  if  you  please,  being  a  loyal 
Virginian,  I  date  from  "before  the  war,"  we  may  glance 
at  the  antecedents  of  Richard  Throckmorton,  Esq., 
commonly  known  as  "the  Colonel,"  who,  at  that  time, 
was  the  widowed  owner  of  the  mansion-house.  With- 
out calling  upon  the  antiquarian  aid  of  the  family 
genealogy, — a  roll  of  parchment  pigeon-holed  in  the 
Colonel's  study,  and  reverenced  next  to  the  Bible, — I 
may  succeed  in  outlining,  briefly  yet  comprehensively, 
the  successive  proprietors  of  the  estate.  Yonder  por- 
trait, above  the  decanters  on  the  sideboard  in  the 
dining-room,  is  that  of  the  founder  of  the  colonial  line, 
Guy,  the  Cavalier,  who  died  exalting  King  Charles  as 
**a  thing  enskied,"  and  hating  Cromwell  as  the  fiend 


RBT 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  $ 

hates  holy  water.  Needless  to  say  he  was  of  the 
party  who  tried  to  get  the  second  Charles  to  come 
over  from  Breda  and  be  King  of  fair  Virginia.  Under 
glass  in  the  library  has  always  been  kept,  when  the 
family  has  been  at  home,  one  of  the  famous  Carolo- 
rum  medals.  No  one  knows  what  became  of  it  during 
the  war  between  the  States,  but  the  Colonel  is  sus- 
pected to  have  worn  it  around  his  neck  as  an  amulet 
in  battle,  and  for  safe  keeping. 

It  is  a  significant  fact  that,  in  these  latter  days  of 
unbelief,  certain  young  Throckmortons  have  sprung  up 
to  say,  while  fingering  the  token  old  Guy  held  dearer 
than  aught  save  honor,  "I  think  England  was  well  rid 
of  both  son  and  father  of  the  royal  house  of  Stuart." 
But  then.  Cousin  Polly  always  hushes  them ! 

On  the  table  by  the  medal  lies  a  tome  bound  in  vel- 
lum, showing  the  autograph  and  book-plate  of  Guy 
the  first  settler.  It  is  "A  Chronicle  of  the  Kings  of 
England  from  the  time  of  the  Romans  Government 
unto  the  Raigne  of  our  Soveraigne  Lord  King  Charles, 
containing  all  passages  of  State  and  Church,  with  all 
other  observations  proper  for  a  Chronicle,  etc.,  by  Sir 
Richard  Baker,  Knight.  The  fecond  Edition."  It 
was  "Printed"  in  London  "by  J.  Flefher  and  E.  Cotes," 
and  "fold  by  Laurence  Sadler  at  the  figne  of  the 
Gilded  Lyon,  and  by  Thomas  Williams  at  the  figne  of 
the  Bible,  in  Little  Britaine.  1653."  In  the  dedica- 
tion "To  the  High  and  Mighty  Prince  Charles,  Prince 


4  FLOV/ER  DE  HUNDRED. 

of  Wales  and  Duke  of  Cornwall,  Eldeft  Sonne  to  our 
Soveraigne  Lord,  Charles,  King  of  Great  Britaine, 
France  and  Ireland,"  occurs  this  sentiment:  ''For  my- 
felf  I  fhould  account  it  happineffe  enough  that  I  have 
lived  to  fee  the  days  of  your  illuftrious  Father,  if  it 
were  not  a  great  unhappinefse  to  fee  them  over  caft 
with  cloudf;  and  yet  when  thefe  cloudf  fhall  be  dif- 
pel'd,  will  it  not  make  him  fhine  with  the  greater 
fplendour?  And  thif,  as  old  as  I  am,  I  doubt  not  to 
live  myfelf,  to  fee,  and  having  once  feen  it,  fhall  then 
willingly  fay  my  Nunc  Dimittis,  and  leave  the  joy  of 
your  glorious  times  for  Another  Age."  Outlining 
this  passage  is  a  mark  in  faded  ink,  and  written 
against  it  the  words,  "Eheu  !  Eheu !"  signed  "G.  T., 
1665."  For,  one  thing  and  another  preventing,  the 
self-exiled  Cavalier  never  returned  to  England.  He 
contented  himself  with  experiments  in  silk-culture — 
planted  the  mulberry  trees,  one  of  whose  descendants 
drops  purple  fruit  into  the  quarter  well — and  imported 
Armenians  to  sustain  his  industry.  He  was  active  in 
bringing  to  punishment  the  captain  of  the  ship  in 
which  he  and  his  dame  embarked  from  England,  who 
had  allowed  his  sailors  to  condemn  and  hang  a  poor 
emigrant  woman,  forced  by  torture  to  confess  her- 
self a  witch,  "because  of  the  ship's  miscarriage  near 
the  Western  Isles,  which  had  been  like  to  consign  all 
soules  on  board  to  the  bosom  of  the  deep."  He  de- 
vised  the  scheme  for  civilizing  the   Indians  by  which 


FLOWER   DE  HUNDRED.  5 

"for  every  eight  wolves'  heads  dehvered  by  an  Indian 
to'the  authorities,  the  head  man  should  receive  a  cow 
as  a  step  toward  making  him  a  Christian."  And  he 
was  hand  in  glove  with  the  rulers  of  the  Colony  for 
the  furtherance  of  all  pacific  and  public  spirited  enter- 
prises. Honored,  prosperous  and  happy  he  passed 
away;  but  to  the  last  his  heart  turned  in  longing  to 
the    Mother   Land. 

The  wife  of  Guy  Throckmorton  came  of  a  noble 
Scottish  family.  Try  as  they  may  to  invest  this  pro- 
genitress with  the  charms  of  old  romance,  her  fol- 
lowers are  obliged  to  hope  that  the  Lady  Mary  was 
better  than  she  looked.  She  it  is  w^hose  frame 
hangs  next  to  Guy's.  With  a  stiff  busk  and  low-cut 
gown,  two  awkward  arms  encircling  a  lute,  her  hair  in 
spirals  under  d.  ferroJiiere,  she  is  like  a  lay  figure  beside 
the  graceful  ladies  of  a  later  day.  The  Squire,  himself, 
in  a  full-bottomed  pelisse,  with  his  pointed  mustache 
and  imperial,  and  ink-black  locks,  is  depicted  with  a 
savage  scowl  that  ill  assorts  with  the  character  he  bore. 

Lady  Mary's  ancestor,  who  for  refusing  to  adopt  the 
faith  of  King  James  IL,  perished  in  the  grim  embrace  of 
the  "Maiden,"  is  next — that  melancholy  Jacques,  whose 
portrait  must  have  been  taken  on  his  way  to  meet  the 
caresses  of  the  bloodthirsty  spinster.  At  Christmas 
time,  the  young  people  give  him  a  double  allow^ance  of 
evergreens,  "to  cheer  the  poor  thing  up,"  says  little 
Ursula. 


6  FLOWER   DE  HUNDRED. 

"Ye  Honorable  Guy  Throckmorton,  Esquire,"  and 
"Ye  Dame  Mary,  his  noble  spouse,"  lie  in  the  grave- 
yard of  the  church  just  mentioned,  where,  on  alternate 
Sundays,  sharing  as  they  do  a  rector  with  the  adjoin- 
ing parish,  the  family  attend  service.  On  the  other 
days,  the  tutor,  who  is  an  ordained  priest,  reads 
Morning  Prayer  at  home.  The  stone  over  Lady 
Mary,  riven  asunder  by  the  fall  of  an  oak  tree  struck 
by  lightning,  has,  growing  between  the  pieces  of  the 
broken  slab,  a  stalwart  little  oak;  and  the  crest  on 
Guy's  tomb  displays  a  huge  rosette  of  lichen  blurring 
the  wyvern's  beak,  and  recalling  the  crow  in  the  fable 
that  held  on  to  a  piece  of  cheese. 

Better  a  resting-place  like  this,  on  the  banks  of  the 
placid  river,  than  an  ancestral  vault  w^ith  the  tattered 
palls  that  deride  its  proud  epitaphs!  For  here,  in  Vir- 
ginia, the  sun  almost  always  shines,  and  the  squirrels 
meet  to  chatter  about  the  abundant  nuts,  while  in 
branches  overhead  the  birds  sing  roundelays  the  long 
bright  summer  through.  Most  years,  the  star-of-Beth- 
lehem  blossoms  so  thickly  around  the  two  graves  as  to 
look  like  a  bridal  wreath  above  the  sleeping  pair. 

It  was  their  grandson.  Miles,  who  rode  with  Spots- 
wood,  among  the  Knights  of  the  Golden  Horseshoe. 
Educated  in  England,  as  a  youngster  he  had  flourished 
at  the  Court  of  Queen  Anne,  knew  all  the  fine  and 
clever  people  of  the  period,  and  brought  back  to  Vir- 
ginia  more   luxurious  ways  and  belongings   than   had 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  7 

been  seen  there  until  then.  The  ebon  cabinet  inlaid 
with  ivory,  once  owned  by- Anne  Boleyn,  and  most  of 
the  books  and  pictures,  with  the  "deer-foot"  and  ''drop- 
and-garland"  silver,  came  over  in  Miles's  time.  His 
portrait,  by  Kneller,  has  languishing  dark  eyes,  and  lips 
formed  for  kissing  and  for  epigram.  His  smart  attire, 
carried  so  jauntily,  causes  the  girls  to  sigh  beneath  his 
gay  presentment,  and  twit  to  distraction  their  cousins 
and  other  beaux  who  are  condemned  to  wear  modern 
unbecoming  garb.  The  bundles  of  old  letters  kept  in 
Anne  Boleyn's  cabinet,  but,  by  the  Colonel's  orders, 
under  lock  and  key,  show  that  Miks  had  his  successes 
with  the  fair. 

After  all  his  frolicking  in  England,  he  settled 
down  as  a  Burgess  in  Virginia,  and  then  won  a  high 
place  in  the  Council  of  the  Colony.  He  married  a 
belle,  who  was  also  an  heiress  and  brought  him  a  large 
estate  in  another  county — Miss  Lydia  Ludwell,  daugh- 
ter of  a  gentleman  who  had  fought  at  Blenheim  and 
ended  his  days  in  the  old  counti'y.  Lydia's  portrait, 
made  in  London  when  she  went  over  with  her  husband 
for  a  visit  to  her  papa,  is  the  pride  of  the  Flower  de 
Hundred  collection;  an  exquisite  creature — her  hair 
looped  with  pearls,  and  wearing  a  court'  costume  of 
satin  with  pearl  embroidery  over  a  hooped  petticoat. 
In  her  slim  rosy-tinted  hand  she  carries  an  ostrich 
plume;  her  eyes  smile  with  conscious  triumph;  her 
head  sits  proudly  upon  sloping  shoulders.     Near  Mis- 


8  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

tress  Miles  is  her  daughter  Ursula;  at  seventeen  she 
died,  crossed  in  love  for  Sir  Ralph  Verney,  who,  on 
arriving  in  the  Colony,  was  discovered  to  have  left  so 
many  ugly  tales  behind  him  in  England,  that  her  father 
interfered,  and  broke  off  the  match.  The  young  lady, 
dressed  as  a  shepherdess,  holds  a  crook  in  her  hand, 
and  behind  her  are  pastured  some  painfully  fore- 
shortened sheep.  She  is  a  lovely  httle  maid,  not 
brilliant  like  her  mother,  but  with  a  wild-rose  fresh- 
ness and  appealing  grace  of  her  own  that  capture  all 
observers.  Ursula  of  the  nineteenth  century,  though 
for  the  world  she  would  not  confess  it,  has  cried  over 
the  sorrows  of  her  namesake  as  often  as  over  the 
endings  of  Miss  Porter's  novels.  From  the  flat  slab 
ascribing  to  the  deceased  the  charms  and  virtues  of  a 
legion  of  heroines  she  trains  away  the  myrtles  that 
would  cover  it ;  and,  among  the  earliest  flowers  of 
spring,  is  always  promptly  on  hand  to  find  a  certain 
variety  of  sweet-smelling  white  violets,  with  purple 
hearts,  that  grow  from  the  dust  of  "Ursula,  mort. 
1729." 

Next  in  the  family  line,  comes  Guy  the  second,,  the 
oldest  son  of  Miles  and  Lydia.  He  may  be  seen  in 
the  chief  wall  space  of  the  hall,  wearing  his  British 
uniform — was  a  volunteer  on  Washington's  staff  in  the 
French  and  Indian  war,  and  afterwards,  as  a  Burgess, 
met  together  with  his  neighbors  and  kinsmen  from  the 
James,  and  voted  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  George  III. 


Plower  de  hundred.  9 

When  the  great  struggle  came,  Guy  Throckmorton's 
purse  was  opened  with  a  wilHng  hand  for  the  equip- 
ment of  Virginia  troops,  and  his  oldest  son.  Miles, 
went  to  the  war,  in  the  personal  charge  of  his  father's 
early  friend,  the  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary armies.  Miles  won  distinction  and  lost  a  leg 
\\\  the  service  of  the  new  States.  His  son,  again,  was  a 
modest  country  squire,  a  mighty  fox-hunter,  and  a 
connoisseur  in  horses,  for  which,  like  old  Randolph  of 
Tuckahoe,  he  had  stalls  fit  for  a  prince  (so  the  coun- 
try people  said),  especial  grooms,  mahogany  mangers, 
and  other  extravagant  luxuries. 

The  younger  scions  of  this  line,  after  the  fashion  of 
other  Virginians  of  their  class,  married  and  intermar- 
ried till  their  genealogies  are  a  mere  maze  of  kinsfolk; 
spread  over  the  State ;  emigrated  to  distant  States ; 
and  in  every  generation  spent  their  money  instead  of 
saving  it. 

Just  before  the  war  of  secession,  Richard  Throck- 
morton, then  a  man  of  sixty-odd  years  of  age,  was,  as 
I  have  said,  in  possession  of  the  place.  Ostensibly 
the  head  of  the  family,  he  was  in  reality  at  the  beck 
and  call  of  a  parcel  of  women  and  lads.  The  house- 
hold, though  all  coming  from  a  common  stock,  knew 
no  relationship  as  near  as  that  of  the  Colonel  to  his 
mother,  a  venerable  lady  who  was  at  once  the  charm 
and  consecration  of  their  home. 

Twenty  years   or  so  before   this  time,  had  occurred 


1<^  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

in  the  Colonel's  peaceful  life  an  episode  that,  how- 
ever odd  and  in  some  respects  improbable,  was  one  of 
those  actual  romances  that  to  certain  families  long 
rooted  in  our  Southern  soil  are  as  much  a  part  of 
family  life  as  the  ivy  on  their  walls.  Losing  his  older 
son  and  heir,  Richard  Throckmorton  had  concentrated 
all  the  devotion  of  a  somewhat  arbitrary  and  exacting 
nature  upon  his  only  other  child,  Philip,  a  winning, 
handsome  fellow,  flaxen-haired  like  his  dead  mother, 
blue-eyed,  and  fragile  in  his  build,  but  possessed  of  a 
will  as  indomitable  as  his  father's.  While  absent  at  a 
Northern  watering  place,  the  young  Virginian  had  met 
and  loved  and  become  engaged  to  a  Cuban  beauty. 
Far  back  in  the  annals  of  the  house  of  Throckmorton, 
there  had  been  a  wild,  black  story  of  a  young  Virginia 
volunteer  in  the  English  wars  against  the  Spanish, 
a  great-grand-uncle  of  our  Colonel  Richard,  betrayed 
through  treachery,  and  coming  to  a  dog's  death  at  the 
hands  of  a  ship's  load  of  dagoes,  who  had  captured 
him  at  sea.  Hatred  of  everything  Spanish  was  drunk 
in  with  mother's  milk  thenceforth  by  Throckmortons. 
That  Philip,  the  sole  hope  of  his  house,  should  delib- 
erately cast  this  drop  of  poison  into  the  Colonel's  cup 
was  unforgivable.*  There  were  stormy  scenes,  dark 
days  at  Flower  de  Hundred,  ending  in  the  defiant 
son's  departure  from  home.  A  year  or  two  later  came 
tidings  fraught  with  bitter  sorrow.  Philip,  himself 
hardly   out   of   boyhood,  had   died   of  yellow  fever  in 


FLOWER   DE  HUNDRED.  II 

Jamaica,  following  his  wife,  a  victim  of  the  same  dis- 
ease, and  leaving  to  his  father's  care  an  infant  son. 
To  receive  the  little  one,  dispatched  on  a  trading 
schooner  to  a  port  on  the  Carolina  coast.  Colonel 
Throckmorton  journeyed  southward.  The  letters 
from  an  American  Consul,  in  Jamaica,  informing  him 
of  his  son's  death,  had  also  prepared  him  for  the 
arrival  by  the  same  opportunity,  and  under  charge  of 
the  English  nurse  provided  for  his  grandson,  of  the 
orphan  child  of  another  Throckmorton — Tom,  the 
rolling  stone  of  the  family,  a  cousin  who  had  been 
Philip's  playmate  long  ago,  and  had  drifted  to  the 
West  Indies  never  to  return — Tom,  who,  leaving  his 
wife  and  child  in  generous  Philip's  home,  had  set  off 
on  a  voyage  to  Texas  in  a  ship  which  foundered  at  sea, 
and  whose  widow  was  soon  swept  away  by  the  resist- 
less fever,  having  lived  only  long  enough  to  commend 
her  boy  to  Philip's  guardianship.  The  circumstances 
of  the  Colonel's  expedition  to  the  coast ;  the  story  of  a 
shipwreck  occurring  before  his  anguished  eyes,  and  of 
the  two  babies,  sole  survivors  of  that  night  of  horror, 
found  drifting  in  an  open  boat,  alone,  unharmed,  next 
day ;  the  fate  of  the-  English  nurse,  cast  drowned  upon 
the  shore ;  the  loss  of  certain  valuable  jewels,  a  minia- 
ture, and  a  letter  written  by  Philip  to  his  father,  which 
the  Colonel  had  anxiously  hoped  to  find  upon  the  per- 
son of  the  nurse — all  this  was  whispered  after  nightfall 
in  the  chimney-corner  of  the  mansion-house  at  Flower 


.12  FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED. 

de   Hundred,  and  formed  the  chief  burden  of  planta- 
tion gossip  in  the  negroes'  huts  for  years  to  come. 

But  the  Colonel,  who  had  been  accompanied  on  his 
journey  by  only  a  young  man-servant,  allowed  no 
allusion  to  the  circumstances  of  the  affair  to  be  ad- 
dressed to  him.  He  had  arrived  at  the  plantation, 
bringing  the  two  boys,  to  whom  had  been  apportioned 
equal  privileges — Philip's  son,  Dick,  the  heir,  a  blond, 
clear-cut  beauty  like  his  father, — and  Tom's  son  Miles, 
the  waif,  dark-browed  and  passionate, — what  the  ne- 
groes called  the  "spit  en  image  uv  his  daddy."  The 
children  had  grown  up  in  health  and  vigor  undis- 
turbed ;  it  would  have  been  hard  to  tell  which  of  them 
w^as  nearer  the  Colonel's  heart ;  Miles,  like  his  com- 
rade Dick,  had  called  the  master  "gran'fazzer"  as 
soon  as  he  could  lisp.  The  years  that  had  elapsed 
since  his  fateful  journey  had  left  their  mark  upon 
Richard  Throckmorton  in  other  ways  than  by  merely 
ageing  him.  One  would,  indeed,  have  hardly  given 
him  his  years.  Tall,  erect,  muscular,  he  was  still 
the  marked  figure  in  any  assemblage.  His  towering 
head,  his  eye  bright  and  searching,  suggested  the 
haughty  Dick  Throckmorton  as  remembered  by  his 
friends.  But  there  was  an  almost  pathetic  appeal  in 
the  lines  around  his  mouth.  The  expression  of  his 
face,  now  habitually  gentle,  was  beautiful  when 
lighted  by  a  smile.  The  tones  of'  his  voice,  always 
courtly,    became    tender   when  addressed    to    women, 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  1% 

children,  and  things  helpless,  or  in  pain.  The  old 
intolerance  of  contradiction,  obstinacy  of  prejudice, 
had  gone  out  of  him  as  the  evil  spirits  of  Holy 
Writ  fled  at  the  coming  of  the  Lord.  It  was  not 
certain  whether  he  was  most  beloved  by  his  little 
mother,  by  the  younger  women  in  her  train,  by  the 
boys,  or  by  his  black  people.  He  was  an  indulgent 
master.  Sampson,  the  faithful  New  England  over- 
seer, did  not  consider  the  Colonel's  lenient  methods  in 
dealing  with  his  large,  clamorous,  and  unreasoning 
train  of  dependents,  wise;  he  knew  it  was  not  profit- 
able to  the  estate.  The  only  point  in  which  he  might 
justly  be  called  exacting,  was  as  to  the  care  of  horses. 
Brown  Bess,  whom  he  bestrode  every  day  upon  his 
rounds  to  see  the  farms,  had  a  coat  of  chestnut  satin, 
polished  hoofs,  and  equipments  of  spotless  nicety; 
and  no  stable  boy  was  found  who  presumed  to  back 
her,  saddled  or  otherwise ;  nor  indeed  would  anybody 
else.  That  madcap  Miles  had  ridden  her  up  the  front 
steps,  once,  and  into  the  big  hall,  where  my  Lady 
stood  on  a  square  of  Turkey  carpet,  arching  her  neck, 
nibbling  sugar,  and  looking  around  for  admiration 
from  the  ancestors  in  their  frames,  and  the  contem- 
poraries in  the  flesh  who  scolded  and  applauded  in  a 
breath.  Miles  had  been  impelled  to  this  exploit  by 
hearing  from  Cousin  Polly  how  Miles  of  Queen  Anne's 
day,  on  completing  the  building  of  the  hall,  after  the 
old  one  was  burnt  out,  and  before  the  furniture  was 


14  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

replaced,  had,  for  a  wager,  driv^en  his  chariot  and  four 
in  at  the  front  door,  and  ^safely  turned  them  to  go 
out !  The  Colonel,  who  found  all  the  women  around 
this  pair  of  trespassers,  started  to  bestow  a  scolding 
on  the  lad.  But  there  was  something  in  the  fearless 
gaze  that  met  his  own,  the  gallant  poise  of  the  sixteen- 
year-old  upon  the  saddle,  the  flush  of  beautiful  youth 
in  the  rascal's  merry  face,  that  disarmed  him.  Th^ 
lecture  stuck  in  his  throat,  and  Miles  got  off,  scot  free. 

'T  wonder  why  the  deuce  Dick  never  thought  of 
doing  that,"  the  master  murmured  unconsciously  to 
himself,  as  he  went  into  the  study,  and  sat  down  to 
his  pipe. 

There  was  no  doubt  that,  of  the  two,  Miles  was  the 
more  dashing,  aggressive,  and  troublesome  to  manage. 
He  had  been  in  and  out  of  scrapes  from  the  moment 
he  could  toddle  away  from  Mammy  Judy's  apron- 
string.  He  had  learned  to  handle  a  rod,  to  swim,  to 
shoot,  to  wrestle,  to  climb  trees  after  mistletoe  and 
hawks'  nests,  to  row,  to  sail  a  cat-boat,  by  the  time 
the  Reverend  Taliaferro  Crabtree — a  parchment-faced 
clergyman  with  a  w^eak  chest,  engaged  by  Colonel 
Throckmorton  to  take  charge  of  the  lads'  education — 
had  arrived  upon  the  departure  of  their  nursery  gov- 
erness. This  tutor  was  a  relic  of  the  sport-loving 
clergy  of  older  times.  Educated  at  Oxford,  a  series  of 
reverses  had  robbed  him  of  his  fortune,  and  his  health 
did  not  permit  taking  charge  of  a  parish.     So,  in  his 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  I5 

middle  age,  he  had  drifted  into  the  snug  harbor  of 
Flower  de  Hundred,  where  it  seemed  likely  he  would 
pass  the  afternoon  of  life.  His  quarters  were  in  an 
outbuilding  over  the  school-room,  whence  on  summer 
evenings  might  be  heard  to  issue  the  dolefuh  tootings 
of  a  flute.  His  possessions  were  limited  to  a  case  of 
books,  a  few  suits  of  rusty  black  clothes,  a  couple  of 
beautiful  greyhounds  styled  Romeo  and  Juliet,  and 
a  brace  of  hawks,  named  Death  and  the  Devil.  For 
the  parson's  mania  was  hawking,  and  he  soon  had  his 
two  pupils  indoctrinated  with  the  mysteries  of  that 
ancient  craft.  Their  talk,  out  of  school  hours,  was  all 
of  jesses  and  bewets,  howet,  howet  and  retrieve,  mew 
and  mewtings,  creancing  and  so  on — to  the  distraction 
of  the  puzzled  family.  To  gratify  the  old  boy, 
Colonel  Throckmorton  gave  him  for  his  exclusive  use  a 
hunter  which  he  proceeded  to  call  Orthodoxy,  and  on 
which,  with  black  coat-tails  flapping,  he  would  stoutly 
follow  the  hounds.  Another  sport  introduced  by  him 
was  archery — Mr.  Crabtree's  father  having  in  his  youth 
twice  won  a  silver  arrow  from  the  Hainault  foresters 
at  Fairlop  Oak.  He  was  kind-hearted  but  irascible, 
and,  a  fine  scholar,  easily  lost  patience  with  the  ineffi- 
cient dawdling  of  beginners  who  failed  to  "see  an  inch 
beyond  their  noses,  sir."  Their  school-room  was  in 
"the  ofifice,"  a  gray,  stucco-faced  building  where  green- 
ish light  strained  through  lilacs  gone  to  wood  in  their 
old    age  around  the  windows,  and   overhead   towered 


1 6  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

the  shafts  of  great  magnoHas  and  pecan  trees ;  a  still 
place,  where  no  sounds  came  but  those  made  by  the 
bees  and  nestmg  birds,  to  whom  Mr.  Crabtree's  juris- 
diction did  not  reach.  Once,  a  fox  ventured  to  the 
stone  door-step  of  "the  office,"  and  the  lads  held  their 
breath  in  the  hope  of  decoying  her  within, — but,  one 
quick,  intelligent  glance  at  the  situation,  and  she  was 
off.  Dick  was  for  tracking  her  that  day,  and  loosing 
the  hounds  after  her  on  the  morrow.  But  Miles,  the 
truest  lover  of  the  hunt  except  the  Colonel  in  their 
neighborhood,  protested.  "It'd  be  like  riding  after  a 
man  that  had  been  to  visit  you,  and  robbing  him,"  he 
said,  and  Dick,  on  second  thoughts,  agreed. 

Miles'  accomplishments  in  the  athletic  and  sporting 
line  were  at  once  the  admiration  and  misery  of  Mr. 
Crabtree.  The  fellow  had  an  audacious  way  of  vault- 
ing out  of  the  window  when  the  tutor's  back  was 
turned,  and  disappearing  for  the  day.  And,  as  the 
walls  of  "the  office"  were  lined  with  old  volumes  bear- 
ing London  imprint,  and  Mr.  Crabtree,  a  genuine  lover 
of  by-gone  literature,  was  no  mean  antiquarian  on  his 
own  account,  Miles  found  easy  opportunities  to  make 
his  exodus.  Upon  one  of  these  occasions,  when  about 
thirteen  years  of  age,  he  had  gone  tramping  alone  with 
his  dogs  over  leagues  of  wood  and  marsh,  carrying  a 
heavy  gun,  and  turning  up  at  night  with  a  bag  of 
game  that  n-ell-nigh  won  his  pardon  from  the  Colonel. 
But    the    offended    Crabtree    demanded    and    secured 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  i? 

atonement  in  the  shape  of  an  afternoon  spent  by  the 
truant  indoors,  next  day,  engaged  in  memorizing  two 
Hnes  of  Virgil  for  each  mile  he  had  traversed  during 
his  escapade.  Another  time,  when  a  young  mare  had 
just  come  home  to  the  stables,  and  the  Colonel  had 
given  orders  that  no  one  should  back  her  until  he  him- 
self should  have  tested  her  notoriously  bad  temper, 
Miles  effected  one  of  his  vanishing  acts,  and  ere  long 
were  heard  from  the  home  paddock  sounds  that 
moveci  Dick,  and  his  tutor  too,  irresistibly  in  that 
direction.  Led  out  of  her  stall  into  the  inclosure  by 
a  couple  of  negro  boys  running,  dodging,  dangling  by 
her  head,  was  seen  the  beautiful  Haidee  (those  were 
still  days  when  the  cult  of  Byron  flourished  in  the 
land).  Watching  his  opportunity  to  spring  upon  her 
back.  Miles,  bareheaded,  spurred,  and  jacketless,  in- 
dulged in  a  hot  struggle  for  mastery,  during  wdiich  he 
alternately  lay  with  his  cheek  near  the  wilful  crea- 
ture's ear  as  she  reared,  or  sat  her,  like  falcon  upon 
wrist,  in  her  mad  gallop  about  the  field.  The  conflict 
over,  Haidee,  quivering  and  sweating,  resigned  herself. 
Dick,  the  darkies,  and  Parson  Crabtree  cheered  lustily 
as  Miles  rode  the  noble  creature,  splashed  with  foam, 
fretting  on  the  curb,  but  submissive,  up  and  down  till 
her  lesson  was  complete.  From  that  day  forth  she 
loved  him,  and,  to  him  only,  was  like  a  lamb.  Poor 
Haidee !  She  was  shot  under  Miles  at  the  battle  of 
Seven   Pines,   and   the  young  captain   kissed   her  be- 


l8  '  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

tween  the  eyes,  as  they  turned  on  him  glazed  in  death. 
In  '62,  she  was  well  advanced  in  years,  but  had  kept 
her  spirit  to  the  last. 

People  often  said  the  Colonel  might  have  done  bet- 
ter with  Miles  by  exacting  stricter  obedience  from  his 
reckless  youth.  It  is  doubtful  whether  the  result  of 
his  education  would  in  that  case  have  been  more  satis- 
factory. For  love  of  his  benefactor  the  boy  would 
have  submitted  to  any  punishment.  But  spite  of  self- 
reproach  and  genuine  penitence,  there  was  that  in  his 
hot  blood  that  must  needs  work  out  or  choke  him. 
At  a  kind  word  or  a  caress  from  one  he  held  dear  he 
would  melt  like  wax;  but  there  were  moments  when  a 
demon  of  obstinacy,  of  rebellion  against  authority  and 
conventionalities,  of  desperate  longing  to  be  free  from 
rules  of  all  kinds,  clutched  and  clung  to  him  like  the 
old  man  of  the  sea.  The  wild  untrammeled  ways  of 
the  Virginia  plantation  suited  him,  in  that  he  could 
always  put  spurs  to  horse  and  ride  off  into  the  coun- 
try, or,  loosing  the  sail  of  his  boat,  could  court  the 
capricious  winds  of  the  lower  James  until  his  mood 
was  past.  Thanks  to  his  outdoor  life,  his  physical 
development  kept  pace  with  the  Throckmorton  stature 
early  attained  by  Miles,  who  at  twenty  stood  six-feet 
two  in  his  stockings,  and  was  broad  of  shoulder  and 
free  of  superfluous  flesh  as  an  athlete  trained  in  our 
modern  colleges  for  champion's  work.  It  was  a  saying 
among  visitors  and  servants  of  the   house   that  Miles 


FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED.  19 

had  grown  up  to  resemble  his  namesake  the  Knight  of 
the  Golden  Horseshoe.  He  was  wonderfully  good  to 
look  at,  his  complexion  a  clear  olive  mantling  with 
rich  crimson  upon  the  cheeks,  a  little  brown  mustache 
upon  his  short  upper  lip,  his  eyes  dark  and  lustrous 
under  long  lashes,  his  features  strong  and  shapely. 
But  the  Colonel  and  others  of  the  household — Ursula, 
certainly — thought  their  Miles  had  the  advantage  in 
manliness  of  bearing  over  that  faineant  with  the  velvet 
coat  and  Mechlin  steinkirk,  as  Kneller  painted  him. 

Dick's  love  for  Miles  was  a  proverb  in  the  house- 
hold. Since,  in  their  beds,  still  standing  side  by  side 
in  the  nursery  on  the  ground  floor,  Mammy  Judy  had 
coaxed  them  to  keep  still  by  stories  of  Tarlton's 
horses  stabled  in  this  very  room  and  leaving  their 
hoof  marks  on  the  wainscoting,  the  boys  had  shared 
everything  in  common.  Dick  had  a  gentle  nature, 
and  a  deprecating,  almost  timid  appeal  in  his  manner 
for  the  good-will  of  his  friends.  He  was  slower  of 
speech,  and  more  cautious  in  action  than  his  cousin. 
A  trifle  undersized,  his  looks  did  not  quite  realize  the 
waxen-tinted  promise  of  his  beautiful  babyhood  ;  but 
he  was  well-made,  active,  and  vigorous,  with  an  air  of 
distinction  and  scholarly  refinement.  It  had  been 
something  of  an  effort  for  him  to  keep  up  with  Miles 
in  athletic  exercise;  but  IMiles  would  never  let  him 
stay  behind,  and  so,  as  best  he  could,  Dick  scrambled 
after.       From    Parson    Crabtree    he    had    imbibed    an 


20  FLOWER   DE  HUXDRED. 

excellent  taste  in  literature,  and  as  a  classic  had  real- 
ized his  tutor's  fondest  hopes.  Sampson,  the  overseer, 
indorsed  him  as  having  "the  makings  in  him  of  a  first- 
class  farmer,  sir,"  and  high  and  low  about  the  planta- 
tion had  a  kind  word  for  Dick. 

One  person,  and  she  the  true  power  behind  the 
throne,  thought  the  fulfillment  of  Dick's  early  man- 
hood left  nothing  to  be  desired.  This  was  his  little 
great-grandmother.  A  pet  surprise  for  strangers  arriv- 
ing at  the  house  was  the  appearance  on  the  threshold, 
key-basket  on  arm  and  a  smile  of  sweetest  welcome  in 
her  forget-me-not  blue  eyes,  of  the  fairy  chatelaine, 
the  master's  mother,  scarce  sixteen  years  his  senior. 

All  of  "Madam"  Throckmorton's  (as  the  Colonel 
chose  to  call  her)  lovely  life  after  the  first  fifteen 
years,  had  been  passed  at  Flower  de  Hundred. 
When  she  came  there  as  a  school-girl  wife,  and  was 
left  in  charge  of  the  great  establishment  while  her 
burly  lord  rode  away  around  his  farms,  or  followed  the 
hounds  or  haunted  his  famous  stables,  the  old  servants 
did  not  allow  her  much  care  about  the  housekeeping. 
So,  varied  with  her  visits  and  ministrations  in  the 
quarter,  her  Sunday-schools  and  church  work,  she  took 
up  the  ornamental  gardening  of  the  place.  Her  hand 
had  planted  the  shrubs  and  flowering  trees  that  in  the 
spring  made  of  Flower  de  Hundred  a  double  garden — 
half  hanging  in  the  air,  half  under  foot.  Scattered 
in  clumps  about  the  lawns,  between  long-lived  forest 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED,  2i 

trees,  and  skyward  reaching  magnolias  wrapped  trunks 
and  boughs  in  ivy,  and  in  season  unfolding  hundreds 
of  cream-petaled  censers,  she  had  set  out  a  wide  vari- 
ety of  shrubbery  that  a  few  years  of  such  sun  and  air 
nurture  to  fullest  bloom. 

Locusts,  horse-chestnuts,  paulonias,  fringe  and 
smoke  trees,  crape-myrtles,  pomegranates,  lilacs,  dog- 
wood and  snowball,  syringa  and  calycanthus  bushes, 
were  linked  to  one  another  by  garlands  of  honey- 
suckle, cream  and  coral,  running  roses,  wistaria,  clem- 
atis, and  jasmine.  In  the  borders  on  either  side  of 
box-hedges  cut  into  queer  shapes  and  arches,  were 
blossoms  for  every  month — from  February's  snow-drop 
to  April's  tulip  "robed  in  the  purple  of  the  Caesars" ; 
wall-flowers,  orange  and  jet,  streaked,  luscious  and 
splendid,  with  lilies  of  the  valley  into  whose  green 
sheaths  how  many  a  slim  white  hand,  now  dust,  has 
plunged  to  find  the  first  bells  of  the  year;  and  so  to  the 
roses  of  June — and  on,  still,  until  late  December's  chrys- 
anthemums. In  the  garden  proper,  the  prim  design  for 
which,  with  an  Englishman  to  lay  it  out,  had  been 
brought  over  in  one  of  the  Throckmorton  ships,  A.D. 
1760,  grew  a  riot  of  the  old-fashioned  self-sowing  flow- 
ers, the  delight  of  artists  and  novel-wTiters,  but  the 
torment  of  a  horticulturist  of  earnest  purpose.  The 
English  primroses,  for  instance,  spread  so  that  there 
was  no  keeping  them  in  bounds,  and  poppies  were  a 
w^eed.     To  look  on  them  was  a  feast  of  color,  but  they 


22  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

cost  the  little  Madam  many  a  sigh.  To  keep  down 
such  interlopers,  to  train,  to  graft,  to  make  experi- 
ments with  newer  seeds  and  cuttings,  would  furnish 
the  dear  lady  sufficient  pastime  for  the  remainder  of 
her  days.  Excepting  for  the  annual  journey  to  the 
"Springs,"  undertaken  in  her  own  equipage  and  more 
by  way  of  keeping  up  the  tradition  of  the  family  than 
for  love  of  it,  her  days  had  been  spent  amid  the  simple 
occupations  of  Flower  de  Hundred.  Her  tiny  figure, 
clad  in  mild  weather  always  in  white,  might  still  be 
seen  flitting  about  the  box-walks  like  a  familiar  sprite, 
sometimes  carrying  a  lap-full  of  rose-leaves  plucked  to 
make  scent  bags  for  the  household  linen  or  to  flavor 
a  confection  of  which  she  kept  the  sugared  secret ;  or 
again,  her  arms  full  of  long  flowering  sprays  of  which 
her  eye  alone  had  caught  the  matin  loveliness. 

A  daily  task  at  Flower  de  Hundred  was  the  ar- 
rangement by  the  ladies  of  the  family  of  cut  flowers, 
in  trays  and  baskets,  more  or  less  profuse  according  to 
the  season,  sent  in  by  the  gardener  directly  after 
breakfast.  No  hour  in  summer  days  was  pleasanter 
among  the  twenty-four, — so  thought  idle  males  and 
staying  company, — than  that  lounged  away  in  the 
entry,  leading  from  the  main  building  to  the  visitors* 
wing,  watching  white  fingers  at  this  fragrant  task. 
Through  many  open  doors  and  windows  floated  into 
the  matted  corridor — with  its  cane-seat  chairs  and 
chintz  lounges,  the  covers  laundered  to  smell  of  grass 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  23 

and  clover,  its  racks  of  guns  and  rods,  and  its  Barto- 
lozzi  prints — the  softened  sounds  of  distant  farm 
activity,  on  the  languid  breath  of  a  summer  air  borne 
down  by  a  weight  of  sweets.  Madam  Throckmorton, 
the  head  of  a  bevy  of  volunteers,  sat  at  a  table  piled 
high  with  blossoms,  her  own  hands  busied,  directing 
here,  suggesting  there,  bestowing  a  smile  of  approval  on 
completed  work.  Little  Ursula  was  there,  her  chest- 
nut mane  knotted  up,  her  brown  face  moist  and  flushed 
from  frequent  dives  into  the  sunshine  to  dispute  wfth 
the  butterflies  some  flower  left  on  its  stalk,  that 
seemed  to  her  the  one  thing  needful  to  complete  the 
filling  of  her  India  bowl, — Mademoiselle,  Ursula's  fat 
French  governess,  an  exquisite  adept  in  floral  combina- 
tions,— Dick,  at  grandmamma's  side,  talking  with  her 
about  a  successful  graft  long  desired  by  both  enthusi- 
asts,— the  usual  array  of  pretty  cousins  in  white  muslin, 
and  cavaliers  in  snowy  jeans, — Miles,  in  his  disreputa- 
ble velveteens,  standing  gun  in  hand,  his  dogs  impa- 
tient at  his  knees,  in  the  doorway  against  a  back- 
ground of  ivied  wall  in  an  angle  of  the  wing, — and 
Cousin  Polly — and  lastly,  Bonnibel ! 

Yes,  Dick  was  grandmamma's  pet,  and  no  wonder. 
More  than  any  other  member  of  the  household  he 
shared  her  tastes.  As  soon  as  he  was  strong  enough 
to  stray  after  the  little  lady  in  her  horticultural  pur- 
suits, he  became  her  shadow,  while  poor  Miles,  save 
on  one  occasion  when  he  worked  havoc  with  a  row  of 


24  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

Dutch  bulbs,  imported  at  great  expense,  kept  a  re- 
spectful  distance  from  trowels,  water-pots,  and  weed- 
baskets.  Miles  would  supply  little  Madam  with  par- 
tridges and  ducks,  and  did  not  always  forget  to  bring 
home  strange  orchids  from  the  marsh,  or  fungi  from 
the  woods.  And  it  was  his  boast,  that  grandmamma, 
ever  timid  on  the  water,  would  sometimes  trust  herself 
to  his  boat  for  a  row  at  sunset  on  the  crimsoned  river 
near  the  wharf,  or  threading  the  silver  inlets  where  the 
tide  rose  in  the  marsh.  But  Dick  never  forgot  her, 
or  let  her  want  for  anything  he  could  supply.  He 
would  go  with  her  among  the  negro-cabins,  was  her 
almoner,  helped  in  her  Sunday  classes,  and,  during  her 
hour  for  repose  in  the  daytime,  would  sit  beside  her 
couch  and  read  aloud — oftenest  from  her  favorite 
''Keble's  Christian  Year."  After  the  old  lady  became  a 
little  fearful  of  the  spirited  horses  Colonel  Throckm.or- 
ton  invariably  drove,  and  in  fact  wearied  of  any  expe- 
dition far  from  the  mansion-house,  Dick  rigged  up  for 
her  a  donkey-chair,  and  trained  for  it  a  comical  little 
brute,  who  kept  demurely  on  the  walk,  well  aware  what 
was  in  store  for  him  if  he  set  a  hoof  upon  the  borders. 
Of  her  equipage  the  attendant  was  a  small  darkey 
known  as  Puck,  chubby  and  round-eyed  and  portent- 
ously solemn,  who  walked  beside  the  donkey's  head 
with  a  distinct  recognition  of  the  fact  that  Destiny 
had  singled  him  out  thus  early  in  life  for  the  bestowal 
of  her  richest  guerdon.     Grandmamma  never  tired  of 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  25 

extolling  Dick's  thoughtfulness  in  devising  this  addi- 
tion to  her  comfort,  or  of  declaring  her  own  renewed 
enjoyment  therefrom  of  the  blessings  of  her  life. 

Whoever  lay  a-bed  at  Flower  de  Hundred  in  the 
morning,  the  Colonel  was  always  up  and  in  the  saddle, 
and  "ole  Miss" — as  the  servants  invariably  call  the 
doyenne  of  a  Virginia  family — was  in  the  dining-room 
waiting  for  her  congregation  to  assemble  for  morning 
prayers.  Generally  speaking,  it  was  the  honest  aim  of 
the  household  to  forsake  delicious  turning  on  downy 
pillows,  under  counterpanes  of  Madam's  handiwork, 
and  to  rally  around  the  sweet-voiced  bit  of  Dresden 
china,  w^ho,  in  her  crisp  gown  and  cap  and  kerchief,  sat 
and  knelt  in  the  shade  of  the  bowed  shutters  to  read  a 
chapter  and  a  collect.  Sometimes,  human  nature — 
really  entitled  to  special  dispensation  in  the  snare 
of  a  Flower  de  Hundred  bed — proved  recalcitrant,  and 
the  worshipers,  if  they  did  not  sneak  in  barely  in 
time  to  drop  on  their  knees  for  the  last  amen,  and  then 
rise  up  looking  virtuous — only  succeeded  in  getting 
downstairs  for  the  second  round  of  breakfast  batter- 
cakes.  Once,  it  is  chronicled,  failing  all  other  disci- 
ples, *'ole  Miss"  read  prayers  for  an  audience  consist- 
ing of  Dick,  Phoebe  (the  coal  black  shepherdess,  a 
mountain  of  fat  wearing  a  sunbonnet),  a  pet  lamb  who 
followed  Phoebe  everywhere,  two  hounds,  a  collie,  and 
an  Angora  cat.  An  oddly  assorted  gathering  in  the 
morning  sunshine   of   that    stately   room,  its   paneled 


26  FIOVVER  DE  HUNDRED, 

walls  hung  with  triple  rows  of  ancient  portraits,  the 
buffet  piled  with  ancestral  silver,  the  green  dragon  jars 
on  the  mantel  stuffed  with  lavender  and  satin-leafed 
honesty, — and  over  them  the  convex  mirror,  with  brass 
chains  and  eagles,  to  peep  into  which  Colonial  Miss 
Bettys  and  Miss  Babs  had  so  often  stood  on  tiptoe ! 


CHAPTER  II. 

Growing  up  in  the  peaceful  atmosphere  of  the 
home  one  day  to  be  his  own,  it  did  not  occur  to  young 
Richard  Throckmorton  that  a  change  of  any  sort  could 
be  desirable.  But  when  he  and  Miles  were  about  nine- 
teen, there  came,  without  warning,  into  their  lives  an 
element  as  indispensable  to  the  period  of  hope  and 
illusion,  as  balmy  spring  to  early  buds  that  shake  out 
from  their  woolly  covers  into  leaves  having  form  and 
substance. 

Once  or  twice  during  their  childhood  had  arrived  for 
a  visit  to  the  plantation  a  certain  "Cousin  Julia  Leigh," 
of  Maryland,  born  a  Throckmorton,  bringing  with  her 
a  slim,  pale  little  person  with  reddish  hair,  whom  the 
boys  endured  politely  but  failed  to  find  attractive. 
Later,  when  their  orphan  cousin  Ursula  was  taken  by 
the  good  Colonel  into  his  fold  to  live,  the  doubters  con- 
sented— first  through  pity  for  the  lonely  little  brown- 
eyed  stranger,  and  then  because  of  her  willingness  to 
serve  as  chorus,  retriever,  and  general  utility  woman — 
to  believe  that  a  girl  may  have  her  values.  Ursula, 
dubbed  "Nutty"  from  the  Colonel's  declaration  that 
she  was  a  veritable  "Nut-brown  Mayde,"  felt  con- 
vinced  that  the   companionship  of   the  boys,  next  to 


28  FLOWER  BE  HUNDRED. 

that  of  Cousin  Richard,  was  the  greatest  privilege  of 
life.  She  was  fond  of  both  of  them,  but  Miles,  hav- 
ing once  rescued  her  from  an  alarming  peril  when  she 
Vv'as  seven,  he  fourteen,  had  won  her  enthusiastic  devo- 
tion. Nutty  had  been  leaning  out  of  one  of  the  upper 
windows  looking  into  a  bird's  nest  in  the  vines  on  the 
house. wall  underneath,  when  she  lost  her  balance  and 
fell  out,  her  frock  catching  on  a  projecting  bough  of 
robust  growth  that  held  her  there  till  Miles,  with  a 
gardener's  ladder,  could  come  to  her  relief.  It  was 
Miles,  also,  who,  finding  her  with  a  squirrel's  brush 
pinned  in  her  cap,  perched  on  one  of  the  bareback 
horses  led  by  a  negro  boy  to  water,  took  Nutty  forth- 
with to  the  home  paddock,  and  gave  her  a  first  lesson 
in  riding  on  a  saddle.  How  often,  after  that,  had  she 
enjoyed  a  gallop  at  his  side  over  the  sandy  roads  of  the 
pine-woods,  fast  as  thoroughbreds  could  carry  them, 
manes  flying,  her  hair  flying,  their  horses,  neck-to-neck, 
straining  through  the  resin-scented  air,  their  heart- 
beats answering  to  the  panting  of  their  steeds ! 

Dick  was  always  ready  to-  help  Ursula  out  with  the 
mathematics  and  Latin  acquired  from  Mr.  Crabtree, 
v/hile  her  governess,  in  return,  gave  lessons  in  French 
to  the  young  gentlemen.  Nutty  Avas  grateful  to  Dick 
for  invariable  kindness,  but  would  have  gone  through 
fire  and  water  to  be  snubbed  by  Miles.  She  was  a 
loving,  jealous,  passionate  Jittle  creature,  like  a  prickly 
pear  to  the  people  who  did  not  understand  her,  prefer- 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  29 

ring  boys'  sports  to  those  suitable  to  her  sex  and  condi- 
tion ;  and,  having  made  up  her  mind  she  could  not  be 
a  beauty,  she  cared  nothing  for  the  accomplishments 
and  graces  poor  Mademoiselle  discoursed  upon  from 
morning  until  night.  Indeed,  it  was  only  through  in- 
voking the  aid  of  the  Colonel,  or,  indirectly,  of  Mon- 
sieur Miles,  that  the  governess  induced  her  even  to  at- 
tempt certain  necessary  tasks.  The  little  great-grand- 
mamma looked  upon  Ursula  as  an  astonishing  freak  in 
the  family  annals,  a  poor,  dear,  undisciplined  child, 
whom  God  in  his  good  time  would  fashion  anew  into 
resemblance  of  other  people.  The  Reverend  Talia- 
ferro Crabtree,  whom  she  had  baited  and  worried  and 
defied  during  the  lessons  he  was  unfortunate  enough 
to  have  to  bestow  on  her — well,  it  miight  be  too  much 
to  say  that  he  hated  Ursula,  but  that  would  be  very 
near  the  truth ! 

At  thirteen,  to  the  relief  of  all  implicated,  Miss 
Nutty  showed  symptoms  of  reform  in  some  trying 
peculiarities.  From  the  doubling  of  her  plait  of 
chestnut  hair  under  a  bow  of  ribbon,  and  the  overhear 
ing  by  her  of  somebody's  casual  remark  that  Ursula's 
skin  was  beginning  to  clear  up,  dated  her  visible  at- 
tempt to  enroll  herself  among  the  members  of  society 
who  confess  to  a  regard  for  conventionalities. 

And,  at  this  epoch,  Dick  and  Miles  being  at  home 
for  the  summer  vacation,  the  elastic  walls  of  Flower 
de  Hundred  stretched  for  another  inmate. 


30  I^LOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

Nutty  thought  it  a  sad  but  rather  agreeable  story 
she  had  been  told,  of  the  death,  in  a  steeple-chase  for 
gentlemen  riders,  of  Cousin  Julia  Leigh's  good-for- 
nothing  husband  so  soon  after  Cousin  Julia  herself 
had  laid  down  a  weary  life,  begun  under  the  bright- 
est auspices  of  health  and  wealth — and  how  it  had  all 
been  owing  to  poor  Beverley  Leigh's  inability  to  keep 
from  drinking. 

And  now  here  was  another  solitary  maiden  to  be 
provided  with  a  home  and  protectors,  although,  said 
Cousin  Polly,  "Bev  Leigh  had  had  the  grace  to  leave 
her  enough  to  live  upon."  The  boys,  remembering 
little  Amabel's  pasty  complexion  and  lank  red  hair, 
exchanged  secret  expressions  of  dread  lest  grandfather 
should  consider  himself  obliged  to  ask  her  to  the  plan- 
tation for  a  visit.  They  were  filled  with  alarm,  when, 
after  reading  a  second  time  the  letter  that  brought 
him  this  woeful  news,  and  sighing  deeply  thrice,  the 
Colonel  announced  to  his  little  mother  that  he  reck- 
oned he'd  take  the  boat  to  Richmond  on  the  mor- 
row, and  run  over  to  Baltimore  and  look  the  poor 
child  up.  A  few  days  later,  the  same  boat,  touching 
at  Flower  de  Hundred  wharf,  deposited  the  returning 
master,  and,  clinging  to  his  arm,  was — Bonnibel ! 

Bell,  or  Bonnibel,  always — her  baptismal  name  was 
never  heard. 

Dick,  w^ho  was  in  waiting  to  receive  the  party, 
caught  one  glimpse  of  her,  as   with   a  little  petulant 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  3^ 

movement  she  threw  aside  her  mourning  veil — and 
succumbed  upon  the  spot.  "Radiant"  was  the  first 
word  that  occurred  to  one  on  looking  upon  her 
beauty.  Hers  was  the  perfection  of  blond  prettiness, 
with  a  mouth  like  Cupid's  bow,  a  tiny  tip-tilted  nose, 
eyes  gold-brown  to  match  her  hair,  a  color  like  crushed 
roses  on  her  cheeks.  She  was,  at  nineteen,  slender  yet 
fully  developed,  and  her  walk  and  carriage  suggested 
the  women  of  tropic  countries  trained  to  carry  baskets 
of  fruit  upon  their  heads — a  bearing  more  according  to 
the  ideal  of  the  word  queenly  than  that  of  any  actual 
royalty  we  have  seen  in  modern  times. 

This  young  lady  V\'as  under  no  illusions  as  to  the 
impression  she  was  making  upon  her  relatives,  when, 
assembled  around  the  bounteous  luncheon-table,  they 
took  her  measure  with  the  eye.  So  accustomed  was 
she  to  unconditional  surrender,  that  victory  did  not 
elate  unduly.  In  those  days,  a  Southern  beauty 
tripped  through  life  on  a  path  strewn  with  roses, 
hearts,  and  darts.  All  men  became  Sir  Calidores  in 
her  behalf.  Since  her  mother's  death  a  year  before, 
Bell  had  been  obliged  to  take  the  head  of  her  father's 
table,  and,  spite  of  the  cloud  of  sadness  veiling  it,  her 
manner  was  charmingly  easy  and  cordial.  Dick  could 
not  understand  why,  though  feeling  awkward  and  dull 
before  she  spoke  to  him,  afterwards  he  was  conscious 
of  being  at  his  best.  The  courtly  old  Colonel  de- 
clared   it    renewed    his   youth,  egad,    to  have    such  a 


32  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

stunning  young  woman  in  the  house.  Grandmamma 
cooed  over  her  hke  a  wood-pigeon  to  its  young. 
Nutty,  who  had  had  her  breath  taken  away  by  this 
briUiant  vision,  struck  colors  on  the  spot,  and  w^or- 
shiped  Bell  w^ith  the  ardor  that  characterized  all  of 
the  poor  child's  likes  and  dislikes.     And  Miles — 

He  had  been  shooting,  and  returned  late  in  the 
afternoon  when  the  slanting  sun  lit  up  the  western 
windows  of  the  wing.  Ursula  ran  to  meet  him,  and 
chattered  of  this  wondrous  visitor  that  had  dawned 
upon  their  home.  Miles,  discrediting  her  as  a  roman- 
cer, was  turning  up  the  box-walk  that  led  to  the  back 
door,  when  Nutty  made  a  sign,  and  whispered : 
"Hush!  She  doesn't  see  us.  Look  at  the  Red  Room 
window.     She  is  there." 

A  house-wall  thick  with  layers  of  glossy  leaves,  up 
which  a  banksia  rose  had  clambered,  throwing  out  long 
shoots,  each  bearing  a  multitude  of  tiny  yellow  florets, 
and  these  branches  tangled  with  honeysuckle  in  full 
bloom.  A  girl  leans  out  of  a  casement  to  taste  the 
fragrance  of  the  air.  She  is  robed  in  some  half-trans- 
parent white  stuff,  and  her  hair,  loosed  from  the  comb, 
falls  in  a  glittering  stream  over  one  shoulder.  She 
succeeds  in  breaking  a  stubborn  branch  of  the  baby 
roses,  and  at  the  movement  some  ruby-throated  hum- 
ming birds  are  dislodged  from  their  honeysuckle,  and, 
like  flying  jewels,  scatter  in  search  of  safety.  "Heav- 
ens!  liow  lovely  it  all  is!"  speaks  the  sweetest  voice 


FLOWER   DE  HUNDRED,  2>1 

Miles  ever  heard.  And  then  the  vision  disappears, 
and  for  him  the  world  is  left  in  darkness. 

"Yes,  that  is  Bonnibel,"  Nutty  said,  with  proprie- 
tary pride;  "I  knew  you'd  be  surprised." 

"Surprised  is  no  word  for  it,"  cried  Miles.  "She  is 
an  angel.  I'll  be  hanged,  Nutty,  if  I  know  where  I 
stand.     I'm  struck  all  of  a  heap." 

"Boys  are  so  foolish,"  answered  Nutty  sapiently. 
"Now  there  is  Dick,  who  is  just  as  bad." 

"Dick! — "  said  Miles,  then  stopped,  and  for  want 
of  a  better  method  of  expressing  himself,  repeated 
"Dick!" 

"Yes,  indeed.  When  she  spoke  to  Dick  at  lunch- 
eon, it  was  too  ridiculous  to  see  how  pleased  he 
looked.  He  simpered.  Cousin  Richard,  too,  seemed 
when  he  took  her  into  the  dining-room  as  if  he  were 
going  to  dance  in  a  minuet.  Perhaps  we'll  all  settle 
down  by  to-morrow,  but  to-day  we're  really  absurd." 

"Dick! — "  said  Miles,  once  more;  then,  shouldering 
his  gun  and  tossing  his  bag  to  Nutty,  he  stalked 
away. 

To  introduce  you  in  due  chronological  order  to  the 
household  at  Flower  de  Hundred,  I  should  certainly  not 
have  left  Cousin  Polly  to  the  last  of  the  family.  She 
was  a  small,  bright-eyed  lady  of  indefatigable  activity  in 
sacrificing  herself  for  the  good  of  others ;  merry,  witty, 
tender;  a   niece  of  the  little  grandmother,  who,  in  the 


34  FLOWER  BE   HUNDRED. 

old  lady's  advancing  years,  had  come  to  live  altogether 
at  the  plantation.  In  her  trig  person  she  embodied 
the  several  functions  of  housekeeper,  nurse,  confi- 
dante, missionary,  parish-clerk,  queen  of  the  poultry- 
yard,  and  genealogist.  She  was  the  repertory  of  the 
legends  of  the  house;  could  tell  to  a  scalp  the  set- 
tlers killed  here,  in  the  Indian  massacre  of  1622;  and 
Miles,  having  once  found  an  arrow-head,  oddly  stained, 
asked  her  with  a  grave  face  to  name  the  particular 
F.  F.  V.  whose  blood  had  left  that  mark !  Standing, 
for  she  had  rarely  time  to  sit,  in  the  best  spare  bed- 
room, she  would,  while  straightening  a  curtain  or  pat- 
ting a  pillow,  narrate  how  my  Lord  Cornwallis,  cross- 
ing the  river  hereabout  with  his  army  on  the  march  to 
Yorktown,  snatched  a  night's  rest  in  this  mahogany 
four-poster — which  later  was  slept  in,  during  his  visit 
to  Flower  de  Hundred,  by  the  gallant  Marquis  de 
Chastellux.  "The  old  place  was  raided,  my  dears," 
she  would  go  on  to  say,  "by  Major-General  Phillips, 
whose  men  destroyed  crops,  killed  cows,  stole  horses, 
and  even  broke  furniture  and  china;  the  British 
seemed  to  feel  peculiar  virulence  against  your  great- 
great-grandfather,  Richard,  because,  I  suppose,  they 
expected  to  find  him  a  Tory.  But  brothers  mustn't 
bear  malice,  must  they,  when  their  fight  is  done? 
Tarlton's  troopers  were  the  worst.  So  great  was  the 
dread  of  them  in  the  country,  old  Mrs.  Throckmorton 
decided    to  fly  to  Richmond   for    protection,  and,  to 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  35 

avoid  pursuit,  had  her  four  coach-horses  shod  with  the 
shoes  reversed,  so  their  tracks  might  point  the  other 
way.  Tarlton's  men  came  Hke  a  whirlwind,  devoured 
her  provisions,  killed  her  stock,  and  sacked  the  wine- 
cellar.  Why,  they  tied  the  bottles  of  old  Madeira  in 
festoons  around  their  horses'  necks,  and  rode  off  sing- 
ing !  Pretty,  this  knot-work,  isn't  it !  Dear  'ole 
Miss'  made  it  with  her  blessed  little  hands.  It  was 
after  that.  Major  Miles  Throckmorton  built  the  stone 
chamber  underground,  communicating  by  the  secret 
passage  with  the  well.  He'd  be  bound,  I've  heard  he 
said,  another  Revolution  wouldn't  find  him  unpre- 
pared with  a  place  to  hide  valuables  in,  and  people 
too,  in  case  of  a  surprise." 

The  boys  and  Nutty  knew  the  stone  chamber  as  a 
famous  play-room,  having  descended  to  it  many  a  time 
by  way  of  the  old  dry  well  in  an  outbuilding,  sliding  on 
ropes,  and  fortifying  themselves  in  imagination  against 
Indians  and  bloody  Britons. 

"Take  care,  Dick,  how  you  handle  that  cup  and 
saucer  on  the  mantel-piece.  Not  only  because  it's 
Spode,  which  they  do  say  people  are  beginning  to 
set  store  by,  nowadays ;  but  it  was  a  present  to  Mrs. 
Miles  Throckmorton  from  Mrs.  General  Washington, 
whose  first  husband  was  a  connection  of  the  family. 
Old  Lady  Miles  would  have  her  say  about  everything, 
and  she  affronted  Mrs.  Washington  by  giving  some 
plain    advice    as   to    the   management    of   young  Mr. 


36  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

Jacky  Custis.  There  was  quite  a  tiff  between  the 
ladies,  I  am  told,  and  this  was  a  token  of  forgiveness 
when  they  made  it  up.  Dear  knows  Mrs.  Washington 
was  strict  enough  with  her  grandchildren,  whatever 
she  may  have  been  with  her  own  children.  The  tales 
Cousin  Clarissa  Dandridge  used  to  tell  about  the  way 
Nelly  Custis  was  made  to  practice,  and  work  on  her 
sampler!  Cousin  Clarissa  staid  a  great  deal  at  Mount 
Vernon." 

"  'Who's  that  old  codger  on  pink  paper,'  did  5^ou  say. 
Miles?"  the  good  lady  would  resume.  "Fie,  child, 
that's  a  St.  Memin  of  your  great-granduncle  Bland 
Willoughby,  one  of  the  foremost  gentlemen  of  his  day. 
He  married  three  times, — his  first  was  Abigail  Carter, 
of  Rose  Hill,  his  second  Lucy  Carrington  of  the 
Perch — no,  Lucy  must  have  been  his  third — surely 
Edmonia  Christian  was  the  mother  of  Randolph  and 
Tarmesia — well,  well,  I  wonder  I've  forgotten  a  thing 
like  that — I  must  be  in  my  second  childhood,  I 
declare." 

"I  know,"  said  Nutty,  "we've  been  in  the  graveyard, 
scraping  the  lichens  off  his  tomb ;  Abigail  lies  on  his 
right,  Lucy  on  his  left,  and  I  suppose  they  didn't 
know  exactly  what  to  do  with  Edmonia,  so  she's  across 
his  feet.  Dick  translated  his  inscription,  and  it  says, 
Tn  all  he  had  three  and  twenty  children,  on  whose 
education  he  expended  liberal  sums  of  money.'  La 
qua — erudienda — vim — maximam — " 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  37 

"Good  for  Nutty!"  cried  out  Miles.  "But,  I  say, 
what  a  lot  of  young  'uns  to  buy  Latin  grammars  for." 

"What  bothers  me,"  went  on  Nutty,  with  a 
thoughtful  air,  "is  what  he  will  do  about  his  wives 
on  the  Resurrection  morn — I  mean  the  one  that's  got 
to  go  behind  the  others — I  should  think  her  feelings 
would  be  hurt  to  have  to  tag  like  that." 

"Children !"  said  Cousin  Polly,  with  a  shocked  face. 
She  scarcely  knew  whether  she  disapproved  the 
more  of  a  light  speech  on  the  subject  of  man's  last 
arising,  or  of  levity  about  the  family  in  the  past. 
The  latter  offense  was  at  Flower  de  Hundred  quite  on 
a  par  with  the  depravity  of  Sydney  Smith's  man  who 
spoke  disrespectfully  of  the  equator. 

"Indeed,  indeed,  I  wasn't  making  fun,"  pleaded 
Nutty,  in  distress.  To  her  this  cult  of  ancestors  was 
intensely  real  and  absorbing.  But  the  boys,  during  a 
discussion  of  its  tenets,  were  apt  to  be  as  restless  as 
young  colts. 

A  member  of  the  family  in  all  but  ties  of  blood  was 
Saul  the  butler,  of  a  type  once  everywhere  found  in 
our  Southern  homes.  He  was  a  lean  old  darkey,  with 
white  hair  fringing  a  bald  head  like  a  polished  cocoa- 
nut.  His  wrinkled  face  could  beam  with  good  nature, 
but  when  on  duty  wore  an  expression  of  determined 
dignity.  His  bow  and  greeting  were  those  of  the  ideal 
aristocrat.      He   was   self-willed,  humble,  kindly,  iras- 


38  FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED, 

cible,  tenacious  of  the  honor  of  the  house  to  an  extraor- 
dinary degree.  "Roi  ne  puis — Prince  je  daigne — 
Throckmorton  suis,"  was  his  version  of  an  ancient 
motto.  Born  and  bred  on  this  plantation,  as  his  father 
had  been  before  him,  he  had  no  ambition  beyond  its 
Hmits;  and  to  train  up  his  descendants  in  the  second 
and  third  generation  to  adopt  his  methods  and  no 
others,  closed  the  perspective  of  his  life. 

Saul,  in  a  spotless  jacket  of  white  linen,  a  long 
white  apron,  and  a  silver  salver  in  his  hand,  standing 
behind  his  mistress's  chair  at  table,  was  as  much  a  part 
of  Flower  de  Hundred  as  the  lintels  of  the  door. 
Thus  posted,  he  kept  watch  over  the  movements  of 
two  younger  men,  and  of  the  several  little  myrmidons 
always  in  training  at  the  "gret  Hus."  The  old 
man's  way  of  cleaning  silver — of  folding  napkins — of 
carving  bouquets  from  turnips,  beets,  and  carrots — of 
imparting  polish  to  his  glass  and  mahogany — of  com- 
pounding juleps,  egg-nogs,  and  sangaree — were  models 
to  the  county.  No  hand  but  his  touched  the  keys  of 
sideboard  or  wine-cellar.  No  hand  but  his  presumed 
to  draw  out  the  chair  for  "Mistis"  to  be  seated. 
There  was  never  unseemly  haste  about  his  movements. 
Watching  him  prepare  the  table  for  a  meal  by  polish- 
ing the  already  speckless  top,  one  felt  vaguely  that 
Time  might  as  well  stand  still  until  Uncle  Saul  felt 
disposed  to  lay  the  cloth.  The  Colonel's  playmate  in 
childhood,  he  had  some  inclination  to  tyrannize  over 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  39 

his  master  in  minor  things.     But  for  his  tiny  mistress, 
his  veneration  knew  no  bounds. 


Saul's  daughter,  Phyllis,  Madam's  own  maid,  was  a 
portly,  comfortable  body,  always  seen  dressed  in  pink 
or  blue  prints,  while  the  others  were  content  with 
domestic  cottons  manufactured  on  the  quarter  looms. 
Phyllis  tied  her  head  handkerchief  in  a  huge  butter- 
fly bow,  and  wore  around  her  neck  a  string  of  real 
gold  beads,  which,  with  the  distinction  of  having 
buried  four  husbands,  won  her  the  leading  place  in 
plantation  upper  circles.  A  bed-room  "made  up"  by 
Phyllis  was  a  bower  of  bliss  and  cleanliness.  Three  or 
four  times  a  day  she  would  come  in  to  see  that  hot 
water,  cold  water,  fresh  logs  of  wood,  clean-swept 
hearths,  window-shades  at  the  right  angle  proper  ven- 
tilation, abundant  towels,  and  flowers  newly  picked  for 
the  vases,  were  not  lacking  to  one's  needs.  Service 
like  hers  was  the  only  approximation  ever  known  in 
America  to  the  consideration  for  the  comfort  of  the 
guest  seen  in  English  houses.  The  maids  trained  by 
Phyllis  are,  to-day,  the  mothers  of  self-assertive  freed- 
men,  who  jostle  white  people  out  of  place,  wcdiv  pmces- 
nez  in  the  cornfields,  and  travel  with  "gripsacks"  and 
high  hats,  demanding  for  themselves  in  our  Southern 
States  far  more  of  social  consideration  than  the  peas- 
ant classes  of  any  other  nation  upon  earth  either 
receive  or  expect. 


40  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

The  chef  was  Duke,  whose  father  had  let  his  Eli- 
jah's mantle  fall  upon  his  shoulders.  For  thirty  years 
before  the  war  broke  out,  Duke  had  lived  among  the 
saucepans  at  Flower  de  Hundred  coveting  no  change. 
He  was  fat  and  timid,  and  having  once  made  up  his 
mind  to  the  great  enterprise  of  going  down  in  the 
boat  to  visit  the  quiet  burgh  of  Norfolk,  had  spent  the 
night  there,  returning  next  day  in  unrestrained  disgust 
of  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  outer  world,  and 
had  never  gone  away  again.  He  was  an  artist  of  the 
class  that  has  given  the  stamp  of  excellence  to  South- 
ern cookery  Under  him  worked  bread-cooks,  vegeta- 
ble-cooks, pastry-cooks ;  and  the  materials  upon  which 
his  skill  was  exerted  were  principally  supplied  by 
Nature's  bounty  to  the  estate.  Home-bred  hams  and 
mutton  were  supplemented  by  fish  from  the  neigh- 
boring waters,  which  furnished  also  oysters,  crabs,  and 
terrapin — while  poultry  and  game  were  equally  abun- 
dant. People  who  gathered  around  the  Flower  de 
Hundred  board  for  dinner  resigned  themselves  to 
temptations  of  the  palate  that  pleased  none  more 
than  the  servitors  in  ceaseless  progress  around  it  with 
their  offerings. 

The  dinner  over,  it  was  the  custom  to  remove  the 
cloth  and  place  on  the  mahogany  a  fresh  and  bewil- 
dering array  of  sweets  served  in  dishes  of  silver,  porce- 
lain or  cut  glass,  with  decanters  in  silver  coasters  that 
in  the  circuit  of  the  table  were  pushed  from  guest  to 


PLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  4^ 

guest.  To  enumerate  the  creams,  sherbets,  conserves, 
jellies  in  tall  glasses  such  as  the  Stork  put  before  the 
Fox,  "quire-of-paper  pancakes,"  "marguerites,"  what 
not? — the  names  elude  me — one  must  refer  to  some 
old-time  book  of  cookery;  for  during  the  century 
neither  recipes  nor  methods  in  service  have  known 
change  at  Flower  de  Hundred. 

At  breakfast,  the  guest  not  to  the  manner  born  was 
most  apt  to  be  astonished  by  the  variety  of  hot 
breads  (again,  for  nomenclature,  the  reader  is  referred 
to  higher  authorities).  "Cole  bread?"  said  the  colored 
folks.  "Wha'  anybody  wan'  cole  bread  fur?  On'y  po* 
white  trash  eat  sich  stuff." 

And  now,  from  a  picture  that  seeks  truthfully  to 
reproduce  the  days  that  are  no  more,  I  must  not 
omit  a  glance  at  the  general  relation,  to  the  families 
of  their  owners,  of  the  negroes  of  old  Virginia  homes. 
From  even  the  most  thoroughly  trained  among  them, 
it  was  useless  to  expect  an  absence  of  visible  interest 
in  the  affairs  of  the  Great  House.  At  table,  the  hon- 
est Diggorys  were  apt  to  enjoy  unrebuked  not  only 
"Old  Grouse  in  the  gun  room,"  but  all  its  congeners. 
At  the  first  ripple  of  merriment  among  the  guests, 
there  would  be  a  sympathetic  flash  of  ivories  and  of 
eyeballs  from  behind  their  chairs.  The  negroes  dearly 
loved  "company,"  and  worked  better  when  houses 
were  full  to  overflowing.     "Allers  glad  to  see  quality 


4^  FLOWER  BE  HUNDRED. 

a-comin',  and  de  jelly-bag  a  hangin'  on  de  nail,"  was 
an  oft-repeated  saying.  When  one  visited  the  quarter, 
it  was  to  find  the  same  welcome,  infused  with  the 
same  sense  of  ownership  in  the  arrival.  It  was  always 
expected  that  visitors  would  take  an  early  opportu- 
nity to  make  the  rounds  of  the  cabins,  neatly  swept 
and  garnished,  and  divided  by  a  path  of  sun-baked 
earth.  Here  would  be  found  the  women,  the  weaker 
ones  serving  as  nurses  to  the  old  crones  and  babies, 
the  stronger  engaged  in  spinning,  carding,  weaving, 
knitting  garments  for  the  rest.  Under  foot  rolled 
bright-eyed  pickaninnies;  in  the  doorways,  patient 
patriarchs  sat  with  heads  like  bolls  of  ripe  cotton,  sun- 
ning themselves,  leaning  upon  their  staffs,  and  waiting 
for  the  summons  of  old  Time.  Nowhere  was  with- 
held the  smile,  the  bow,  the  curtsey,  the  cheerful 
"Howdye  Marse,"  or  "Howdye  Mistis,"  in  answer  to 
the  greeting  of  the  guest.  If  this  was  the  smooth  side 
of  slavery,  it  was  a  common  sight.  The  seamy  side 
showed  occasional  abuses,  but  most  of  all  the  woeful 
wrong  to  the  masters  themselves  of  the  slave-holding 
habit.  Here,  taking  what  I  have  portrayed  as  an 
example,  was  a  race  of  conscientious  men  full  of  a 
high  sense  of  personal  honor  and  responsibility  to 
God ;  here  were  unselfish  and  helpful  women ;  a 
minority  of  intelligence  and  capacity,  surrounded  and 
isolated  by  masses  of  ignorant  peasants.  The 
blacks,  whatever  their  external  polish,  were  ready  at 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  43 

a  hint  to  relapse  into  the  barbarous  habits  and  beliefs 
of  their  African  ancestors,  some  of  the  most  decent 
and  pious  among  them  stealing  off  affer  nightfall  for 
weird  dance  and  heathe'nish  incantation.  Too  many 
of  them  were  so  characterized  by  sensuality,  so  habitu- 
ated to  the  vices  of  the  untruthful,  so  steeped  in  the 
cunning  with  which  the  servile  class  everywhere  con- 
tends against  its  rulers,  so  shut  off  from  the  sense  of 
accountability  and  duty,  that  many  results  a  stranger 
and  a  philanthropist  considered  reasonably  to  be  hoped 
for  in  controlling  such  a  force  were  by  their  masters 
unattainable  and  had  ceased  to  be  attempted.  As 
for  the  matter  of  personal  cruelty,  rarely  heard  of  in 
such  a  home  as  I  describe,  it  was  the  habit  of  a  tyrant 
born,  not  made  by  circumstance.  And  with  this 
picture  of  life,  as  life  was  on  the  Throckmorton  plan- 
tation, it  must  be  owned  that  these  black-skinned 
peasants,  laughing,  singing,  dancing  Obi  dances  when 
their  work  was  done  on  the  grassy  slopes  of  a  fertile 
land  of  which  each  had  his  little  share,  were  better  off 
than  the  teeming  throngs  of  whites  in  the  London 
slums,  or  of  abject  Orientals  under  European  heels. 
Certainly  their  condition  was  far  in  advance  of  that  of 
African  negroes  anywhere  else  in  subjugation;  and 
there  was  rarely  among  them  any  personal  sense  of 
wrong. 

Nevertheless,    and  although   the  slave    of  America, 
liable  to  an  involuntary  change  of  master,  was  under 


44  FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED. 

the  protection  of  law,  and  entitled  to  all  the  rights  of 
the  person  consistent  with  subjection  to  direction 
and  control  in  daily  toil,  the  system  was  altogether 
wretched.  It  hampered  the  development  of  the 
South,  as  if  society  were  wrapped  in  an  anaconda's 
folds.  And  a  crying  shame  it  was  that  so  rich  and 
generous  a  portion  of  the  American  continent  should 
be  thus  withheld  from  the  progress  with  which  the 
modern  world  was  advancing  to  general  enlighten- 
ment. The  highest  civilization  is  reached  only  where 
there  is  absolute  equality  before  the  law  of  rights  of 
every  kind,  and  possibility  of  equal  actual  attainment. 

The  summer  that  Bonnibel  came,  Dick  and  Miles 
and  Parson  Crabtree  were  sent  off  by  the  liberal  Colo- 
nel to  make  the  then  unusual  tour  of  Europe.  On 
their  return  in  the  autumn  to  the  University,  Dick 
was  surprised  to  find  Miles  throwing  himself  with  zeal 
into  studies  hitherto  neglected,  and  bending  all  his 
energies  to  secure  the  degree  of  Master  of  Arts,  with 
which  not  more  than  one  of  a  hundred  students  leaves 
the  institution  founded  by  Jefferson  and  sustaining 
worthily  the  high  standard  of  scholarship  it  from  the 
first  assumed.  Theretofore  one  of  the  wild  blades  of 
the  University,  Miles  had  settled  down  to  be  a  scholar, 
accomplishing  by  his  marvelous  quickness  of  mind  and 
a  retentive  memory  what  the  plodders  had  been  work- 
ing up  to  since  the  day  of    entrance.      Dick  did  not 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  45 

know  of  a  conversation  between  Miles  and  Bonnibel, 
when  she,  without  thought  of  consequences,  had  said 
she  might  fancy,  but  would  never  choose  for  a  com- 
rade in  life,  a  mere  idler  and  ignorant  roisterer  like  too 
many  of  the  youths  of  their  acquaintance.  And,  when 
the  two  young  men  came  home  for  the  Christmas 
holidays,  Miles  astonished  the  household  as  much  as 
he  had  Dick.  He  was  quiet,  reserved,  withdrawing 
himself  from  the  family  gatherings,  and  given  to 
consulting  Mr.  Crabtree  about  books  over  which  he 
wasted  midnight  oil.  When  he  refused  to  head  a 
coon  hunt,  "Yaller  Jock,"  the  huntsman,  was  greatly 
taken  aback.  And  when  he  declined  to  taste  Uncle 
Saul's  apple-toddy,  that  functionary  went  out  af- 
fronted, and  told  the  tale  to  old  nurse  Judy,  who,  too 
obese  to  leave  the  chimney  corner  of  her  cabin,  shook 
her  head,  and  "spicioned"  Marse  Miles  had  got  relig- 
ion, bless  his  heart. 

We  come  now  to  the  summer  of  1859,  when,  at  the 
old  homestead,  all  thoughts  were  centered  upon  the  ap- 
proaching graduation  of  the  lads,  and  the  probabilities 
that  Miles  would — Dick  being  certain  of  his  share — 
bring  home  college  honors.  It  was  the  week  of  the 
final  exercises  at  the  University,  and  the  Colonel,  de- 
tained at  Flower  de  Hundred  by  a  slight  touch  of  his 
enemy,  the  gout,  sat  in  his  chair  wondering  why  he 
had  not  received  the  usual  weekly  letter  from  his  boys. 
However,  they   were   due    at   home  that   day   by   the 


4^  PLOWEk  DE  HUNDRED. 

down  boat,  and  soon  the  old  house  that  missed  them 
sorely,  would  be  full  of  them ;  a  month  or  so  of  holi- 
day, and  they  would  begin  to  think  of  life  in  earnest. 
Dick  would  take  hold  of  the  old  place,  of  course ; 
there  was  care  enough  for  him  in  its  broad  acres,  and 
already  the  youngster  had  begun  to  plan  costly  im- 
provements, with  Sampson  to  back  him  up.  Miles 
talked  of  reading  law  with  Lawyer  Willis,  their  neigh- 
bor at  Werowocomico,  but,  all  the  same,  he  could  live 
at  home  and  begin  farming  Timberneck,  an  estate 
some  eight  miles  distant  devised  to  his  adopted  grand- 
son by  Richard  Throckmorton's  will,  and  possessing  a 
deserted  manor-house  which  was  some  day  to  be  put 
in  order  for  its  future  master. 

Indoors  at  Flower  de  Hundred,  the  busy  women- 
folk had  set  the  house  in  festal  array  for  the  home- 
coming of  the  heroes.  Floors  shone  with  dry  rubbing, 
furniture  glowed  darkly  under  skilful  hands  with  cork 
and  wax.  "Be  sure  you  stick  the  sockets  full  of 
laurel,"  the  order  given  by  the  entertainer  in  Van- 
brugh's  "Relapse  "in  1697,  was  still  followed  in  old 
Virginia  homes.  Candle  frames  set  over  doors  were 
hidden  by  classic  garlands  of  magnolia  leaves.  Vases, 
jugs,  bowls,  fireplaces,  corners,  every  niche  and  nook, 
were  filled  with  flowers.  The  store-room  shelves 
creaked  under  the  old-fashioned  dainties  prepared  be- 
fore a  feast ;  in  and  out  of  doors  passed  willing  house- 
servants;  around  the  verandas  prowled  dark  little  fig- 


FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED.  47 

ures  whose  mammies  in  the  quarter  had  not  been 
able  to  exclude  them  from  taking  a  sniff  in  advance 
at  the  general  good  cheer.  The  study,  the  only  spot 
about  the  house  held  sacred  from  intrusion,  was  a 
small  high-ceiled  room,  the  walls  having  shelves  filled 
with  books  on  angling,  agriculture,  farriery,  and  for- 
estry. There  were  also  sundry  bound  volumes  of 
proceedings  of  the  State  Senate,  of  which  august 
body  the  Colonel  had  had  the  honor  to  be  during  two 
terms  a  member — after  a  time  of  service  as  aide  to  the 
Governor,  a  position  designated  by  the  honorary  mili- 
tary title  his  countrymen  were  prompt  to  confirm  to 
him  for  the  remainder  of  his  days.  Over  the  mantel- 
piece of  this  room  was  a  portrait  of  Mildred,  Richard 
Throckmorton's  wife,  who  had  had  no  rival  in  his 
faithful  heart — a  high-bred  face,  expressing  mingled 
sweetness  and  reserve,  with  soft  blue  eyes,  and  sunny 
hair  wrapped  with  a  string  of  pearls  that  crossed  one 
shoulder  to  the  bosom  of  her  gown.  Beneath  it  hung 
a  cabinet  picture  of  their  son  Philip.  In  pigeonholes 
of  the  battered  old  desk  near  at  hand  were  Phil's  com- 
positions tied  with  blue  ribbon,  Phil's  diploma  from 
the  University,  with  other  sad  relics  and  bundles  of 
letters  assorted  according  to  their  dates.  Along  the 
wall  base  were  ranged  the  Colonel's  boots  and  shoes, 
and  the  old  slippers  he  liked  to  put  on  when  returned 
from  his  early  ride  with  a  glow  on  his  dark  face  that 
was  born  of  the  dew-washed  morning,  of  his  scrutiny 


4S  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

of  field  and  barn,  bird  on  the  wing  and  creeping  thing 
as  well — for  he  was  a  rare  lover  of  Nature  and  espied 
much  the  young  people  overlooked. 

Above  Mildred's  picture,  the  Colonel  had  hung  a 
sword.  Starting  life  a  younger  son,  he  had  been 
a  midshipman  during  the  war  of  1812,  was  with 
Hull  in  the  Constitution  when  he  captured  the  Guer- 
riere,  and  had  left  the  navy  only  when  recalled  to 
Flower  de  Hundred  at  the  death  of  his  older  brother. 
Of  this  period  of  his  life  Richard  Throckmorton  re- 
tained two  things  very  precious  to  him;  a  deep  love 
and  reverence  for  the  flag  of  the  United  States — and 
this  sword  presented  to  him  for  gallantry  in  action 
under  Decatur,  in  the  fight  with  the  Macedonia. 

To-day,  as  the  old  man  sat  thinking  of  his  boys,  he 
felt  his  heart  throb  with  young  interest  and  emotion, 
and  was  grateful  to  God  for  the  late  flowering  blos- 
soms in  his  chequered  life.  Their  hopes  and  the  pros- 
pects of  their  manhood  were  as  absorbing  to  him  as 
his  own  had  been.  For  Dick,  the  way  seemed  clear 
enough.  He  was  a  good  boy,  a  true  Throckmorton, 
and  would  sit  worthily  in  the  seat  of  his  fathers,  and 
do  his  duty  like  a  man.  Besides— and  then,  certain 
ideas  entered  into  the  brain  of  this  innocent  old 
schemer  that  made  him  smile  and  almost  blush. 
Well,  well,  time  enough  for  that !  About  Miles,  now, 
he  was  not  entirely  at  rest.  Things  had  come  to  his 
knowledge — young  follies  rather  than  wrong-doings— 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  49 

that  cut  the  deeper  because  he  had  been  left  to  find  them 
out  from  others.  He  had  tried  so  hard  to  teach  Miles 
not  to  fear  him.  This  must  be  his  share  of  the  inevit- 
able disappointment  of  old  folks  who  trust  too  much  in 
their  hold  upon  young  hearts.  To  labor,  pray,  hope, 
be  patient — forgive  and  begin  afresh — that  is  the  part 
of  a  watcher  and  guardian  over  undeveloped  souls. 

So  deep  was  the  Colonel's  reverie,  he  failed  to 
notice  that  the  boat  had  touched  at  the  wharf  and 
passed  into  the  stretches  of  river  beyond,  seen  from 
his  study  window.  He  heard  a  commotion  of  voices 
in  the  hall — a  barking  of  dogs — and  then  rapid  foot- 
steps; and,  with  a  light  preliminary  tap,  Dick  and 
Miles  burst  in,  followed  by  such  of  their  dogs  as  were 
quick  to  writhe  inside  before  the  shutting  of  the  door. 

"Why,  Dick!  Why,  Miles!  you  young  rascals; 
you've  caught  me  napping,"  he  cried  out  cheerily, 
veering  around  in  his  chair  to  give  a  hand  to  each. 

"Here's  my  degree  of  A.B.,  grandfather,"  said  Dick 
eagerly;  'T  wouldn't  tell  any  of  'em  I  had  it,  till  you 
should  hear  first." 

"And  here  is  mine,  sir,"  said  Miles,  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation.  He  was  very  pale,  and  had  kept  a 
little  in  the  background. 

"Boys,  boys — "  exclaimed  the  delighted  Colonel. 
He  could  say  no  more.  A  rush  of  pride  and  exulta- 
tion swelled  his  throat. 

"And  Miles  got  his  A.M.  at  a  jump,  sir,"  went  on 


50  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED, 

Dick,  ''while  we  slow  fellows  were  creeping  up  the  hill. 
Everybody  says  his  examinations  were  the  most — " 

"Stop,  Dick — not  a  word  more,"  interrupted  Miles. 
"I'd  feel  like  a  coward  if  I  let  my  grandfather  think 
me  better  than  I  am.  I've  been  in  disgrace,  sir, 
with    the  Faculty,  for   going    on    a    spree    in  College 

bounds And  I  came  awfully  near  not   getting 

this  at  all Till  yesterday,  I  thought  I'd  lost  it, 

and  would  have  to  come  home  to  you  here,  like  a 
whipped  cur." 

His  voice  shook.  The  vein  between  his  eyes  was 
swollen,  and  his  breath  came  short. 

"Grandfather,  hear  me,''  cried  Dick.  "I'll  tell  you 
the  whole  story  from  the  first.  Poor  Miles  has  been 
under  such  a  strain,  he's  all  used  up.  You  know  how 
hard  he's  been  at  work — everybody  knows  that ;  giv- 
ing up  all  the  fun  for  weeks.  Well,  we  were  cock 
sure  of  his  degree ;  and  two  or  three  nights  before  the 
finals,  he  went  out  with  soine  fellows  and  they  had 
something  to  drink  and  made  a  row  in  bounds. 
When  the  authorities  got  after  them,  the  others  got 
away,  but  Miles  walked  back  and  gave  himself  up,  and 
owned  to  the  whole  thing.  Of  course  they  made  him 
keep  his  room,  'awaiting  sentence.'  The  least  they 
could  do  was  to  refuse  him  his  degree,  'twas  said. 
Do  you  know,  that  not  only  the  University  but  the 
whole  town  was  in  an  uproar  over  it.  Everything  was 
at    fever-heat.     The  Faculty  were  besieged    by  notes 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  5 1 

and  petitions  to  let  Miles  off,  and  all  the  girls  went  for 
the   Professors  wherever   they  could  catch   one.     But 
not  a  word  pro  or  con  was   spoken  by  the  Profs.     Yes- 
terday was  the  greatest  day  in  my  life.     There  was  an 
immense  crowd  in  the  hall  for  the  final  exercises,  and 
there   was  I,  taking   my  A.B.  with    a  heart  heavy  as 
lead,  thinking  of  poor  old   Miles,  who  wouldn't  even 
see  me  when  I  went  to  him  before  going  to  the  hall. 
All  the  business,  all  the  speech-making,  was  disposed 
of,   all   the   other  honors  awarded,  and  not  a  word  of 
Miles.     At  the  very  last,  when  murmurs  of  sympathy 
were  running  through  the  crowd,  a  lot  of  pretty  girls 
crying,    and    we    fellows    feeling    like    thunder,    you'll 
believe — I     just    put    my    hand    up    to    my    face    and 
wanted    the    floor   to    open    and    swallow   me— when, 
suddenly,  up  got    dear   old  Doctor  Maupin  upon  his 
feet,  and  you   might  have    heard  a  pin   drop.     After 
clearing  a  very  big  frog  out  of  his  throat,  he  said  he'd 
ask  to   detain  the  audience  but  one    moment  longer, 
about  a  matter  he'd  been  led  to  believe  was  one   of 
general  interest.      He  told  Miles's  story  without  men- 
tioning his  name,  saying  that  in  view  of  his  high  stand- 
ing at  the  University,  his  previous  good  behavior,  his 
excellent  average  in  examinations,  but  'especially  be- 
cause of  the  unanimous  and  gratifying  request  of  his 
classmates  and  the  community,  the  Faculty  had  con- 
sented that  his  offense  be  condoned.' 

"At  this  there  was  one  tremendous  burst  of  cheers. 


52  FLOWER  BE  HUNDRED. 

But,  by  Jove !  grandfather,  when  the  Doctor  took 
up  a  paper  from  the  table,  and  called  out  Miles 
by  name  to  come  forward  and  receive  his  degree  as 
Master  of  Arts  in  the  University  of  Virginia — well, 
you  don't  hear  noise  like  that  every  day !  There 
came  old  Miles,  pushing  his  way  from  the  very  far 
end  of  the  crowd,  as  pale  and  haggard — !  I  believe 
the  fellows  wanted  to  carry  him  up  upon  their  shoul- 
ders— !  When  he  took  his  paper  and  bowed  and 
turned  away,  the  audience  broke  out  again,  the  men 
all  cheering,  the  ladies  waving  handkerchiefs!  I  got 
at  Miles,  I  don't  know  how!  When  the  fellows  let 
him  off,  we  went  into  his  rooms.  He'd  eaten  nothing 
that  day,  and  was  half-starved  and  shaky.  But  all  he 
said  was,  T'm  glad — for  grandfather.'" 

Dick  broke  down  in  a  boyish  fit  of  crying.  Without 
a  word  the  Colonel  opened  his  arms  to  Miles — who 
went  down  upon  his  knees,  and  laid  his  head  in  his 
grandfather's  lap. 

"That  isn't  all,  sir,"  he  said,  in  broken  accents; 
"there  are  other  things.  I've  not  been  worthy  of  Dick 
and  you." 

"My  son,  my  son,"  said  the  old  man,  stooping  over 
and  gathering  him  into  a  close  embrace. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Life  was  very  beautiful  to  little  Ursula.  It  was 
a  cloudless  summer  day  with  enough  air  stirring,  the 
dust  was  laid  by  recent  rains,  and  they  were  going — 
Cousin  Polly,  Bonnibel  and  she,  in  the  carriage,  the 
boys  on  horseback, — for  a  round  of  neighborhood  vis- 
its— a  "broad,"  the  negroes  called  it, — the  heat  of  the 
day  to  be  spent  at  Honey  Hall.  Besides,  she  had  on 
a  new  tea-colored  jaconet  with  coral  sprigs,  and  a  Leg- 
horn hat  with  an  ostrich  plume  curling  entirely  around 
the  crown  and  descending  to  the  shoulder,  lace  mit- 
tens, and  morocco  slippers  with  black  ribbons  lacing 
them  across  stockings  of  white  Lisle  thread.  To 
assume  these  glories  she  had  gone  to  her  room 
directly  after  breakfast,  followed  by  her  black  familiar, 
Vic ;  and  then,  finding  herself  ready  long  before  any 
one  else,  she  had  taken  Vic  out  to  sit  on  one  of  the 
haycocks  on  the  lawn  in  the  shade  of  a  horse-chestnut 
tree  and  "listen  to  Miss  Nutty  read  aloud." 

Vic — what  is  known  as  a  "bacon-colored"  young  per- 
son, with  rampant  twigs  of  hair  plaited  and  tied  with 
white  sewing-cotton — had  been  told  off  as  Ursula's 
especial  maid.  Nutty,  fired  with  philanthropic  zeal, 
and  the  inward  conviction  of  her  own  superior  clever- 

53 


54  FLOWER   DE  HUNDRED. 

ness,  had  begun  Vic's  education.  The  lessons  went  on 
in  all  sorts  of  odd  places,  a  favorite  one  the  elbow  of 
an  old  tree  upon  the  beach,  where,  while  Nutty  held 
the  book,  Vic  sat  at  her  feet  in  the  warm  sand,  mak- 
ing gardens  decked  with  shells  and  moss.  When  Vic 
proved  unusually  dull  and  the  teacher  forsook  her 
over-tedious  task  for  some  book  to  which  she  had 
been  itching  to  return,  she  would  salve  her  conscience 
by  reading  aloud  from  it.  This  was  really  heroic 
when  it  might  be  a  question  of  Madame  d'Arblay, 
Miss  Ferrier,  Miss  Austen,  or  Sir  Walter  Scott.  With 
the  latter  author  in  particular,  there  were  so  many 
pages  one  needed  to  skip  to  get  at  the  conversations 
or  adventures !  Nutty's  library  was  the  musty  closet 
off  the  drawing-room,  where  the  books  discarded  from 
the  other  shelves  were  left  to  the  slow  ravages  of 
queer  little  bloodless  creatures  that  ran  away  across 
the  saffron  page  when  their  hermitage  was  opened. 
There  was  one  small  high  window,  and  under  it  an 
old  chest,  whereon,  nibbling  at  a  green  cucumber 
pickle,  Ursula  passed  many  hours  in  a  dream  world  of 
delight.  The  boys  laughed  at  her  fondness  for  the 
broken-backed  volumes  in  the  parlor-closet.  They 
read  Sir  Walter  from  the  library  edition,  and  pooh- 
poohed  Miss  Austen  as  rather  a  dull  old  thing,  who 
wrote  about  people  you  could  see  by  just  driving 
around  the  county. 

In  this  sequestered  spot.  Nutty  first  came  upon  the 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  55 

Canterbury  Tales,  Milton's  L'Allegro,  Penseroso,  and 
Comus  (Paradise  Lost  did  not  attract  her  in  the  least), 
and  Shenstone's  Schoolmistress.  Shakspere  was  early 
her  companion ;  and,  tired  of  impressing  dolls  into  ser- 
vice as  puppets  to  enact  his  plays,  of  which  she  had 
committed  scene  after  scene  to  memory,  she  once 
organized  a  troupe  from  the  quarter,  with  Vic  as  Shy- 
lock,  herself  Portia,  and,  grouping  the  dramatis  per- 
sonae,  declaimed  the  casket  scene  with  the  other  actors 
in  dumb  show. 

Ccelebs  in  Search  of  a  Wife,  Mrs.  Opie's  White 
Lying,  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  Plutarch's 
Lives,  and  the  Tatler  and  Spectator,  were  other  works 
rejected  for  their  bindings'  sake  from  good  society,  but 
precious  in  Nutty's  sight. 

An  event  of  her  explorations  was  the  discovery  of 
an  old  music-book  called  "Clio  and  Euterpe,"  once  the 
property  of  an  unfortunate  Aunt  Althea,  who  had 
been  lost  in  the  burning  of  the  Richmond  theater. 
Aunt  Althea's  portrait,  with  turret  curls  and  a  sky- 
blue  scarf,  hung  in  the  sitting-room,  over  the  ill-fated 
lady's  harpsichord,  an  instrument  resenting  touch 
upon  its  keys  by  a  peevish  and  leathery  twang. 

From  cover  to  cover,  this  trouvaille  was  a  mine  of 
suggestions  of  dress,  attitude,  and  sentiment  in  the 
eighteenth  century.  Searching  through  its  embel- 
lished pages  for  a  subject  for  experiment.  Nutty,  who 
had    the   hidden    ambition   to    dawn    on    the  startled 


56  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

family  as  a  songster,  found  **Y^  Generous  Distrefs'd,'* 
illustrated  by  a  gentleman  in  full  bottomed  coat  and 
periwig,  kneeling  without  his  hat  upon  a  river's  brink, 
amid  a  hurricane  of  wind  and  rain,  beseeching  the  ele- 
ments to  consume  his  misery: 

"  Blow  ye  bleak  winds  around  my  head, 
And  sooth  my  Heart's  corroding  care ; 

Flash  round  my  Brows,  Ye  Lightnings  red, 
And  blast  the  Laurels  planted  there. 

But  may  the  Maid,  where'er  she  be, 

Think  not  of  my  Distress  nor  me, 

But  may  the  Maid,  where'er  she  be, 

Think  not  of  my  Distress  nor  me. 

May  all  the  Traces  of  our  Love 

Be  ever  blotted  from  her  Mind. 
May  from  her  Breast  my  Vows  remove 

And  no  remembrance  leave  behind. 
But  may  the  Maid,  where'er  she  be. 
Think  not  of  my  Distress  nor  me. 

O  !  may  I  ne'er  behold  her  more, 

For  she  has  rob'd  my  Soul  of  rest. 
Wisdom's  assistance  is  too  poor 

To  calm  the  tempest  in  my  Breast. 
But  may  the  Maid,  where'er  she  be. 
Think  not  of  my  Distress  nor  me. 

Come  Death,  O  !  Come,  thou  friendly  Sleep, 

And  with  my  Sorrows  lay  me  low, 
And  should  the  gentle  Virgin  weep, 

Nor  sharp  nor  lasting  be  her  woe. 
But  may  she  think,  where'er  she  be, 
No  more  of  my  Distress  nor  me." 

This  "favorite  Air,  set  to  Musick  by  Doctor  Arne,  to 
be   sung  briskly,"   proved   to  be  a  warbling  old    ditty 


.     FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  57. 

embroidered  with  appogiature  and  trills,  and  full  of 
alarming  intervals,  like  "running  high  jumps"  of  an 
athlete  on  the  course.  Nutty,  thinking  better  of  the 
race  of  men  after  imbibing  the  self-sacrificing  spirit 
of  the  words,  and  believing  herself  to  be  alone  with 
Vic  bobbing  her  woolly  head  in  approbation,  essayed 
the  song  on  Aunt  Althea's  harpsichord.  With 
strained  fervor,  real  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  flushed 
cheeks,  she  rendered  it,  dealing  with  a  trill  toward 
the  end  by  the  purely  mechanical  method  of  shaking 
her  head  from  side  to  side  while  holding  to  the  note. 
To  her  dismay,  the  finale  was  attended  by  shouts  of 
derisive  laughter!  There  were  the  boys,  hidden  be- 
hind the  open  door!  Nutty  jumped  up  in  a  rage, 
slammed  "Clio  and  Euterpe"  on  the  floor,  and,  burst- 
ing into  bitter  tears,  ran  off  and  hid  herself  for  half 
the  day. 

To-day  Ursula  had  brought  out  upon  the  lawn 
several  books.  Chief  of  these  was  a  pamphlet  written 
by  the  rector — who,  on  the  occasion  of  his  last  parochial 
call,  had  presented  a  copy  to  each  young  person  of 
the  family.  It  was  a  profound  and  rather  unrelenting 
tract,  decrying  the  sin  of  dancing.  Bonnibel  had 
received  hers  with  the  sweetest  smile  and  put  it  away 
in  her  small  "serious"  library,  the  gifts  of  anxious 
clergymen,  female  relatives  who  feared  the  snare  of 
beauty  for  her  soul,  sponsors  in  baptism,  and  young 
divinity  students.     Nutty,  whose   feet   had   a  natural 


58  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

inclination  to  tread  in  measures,  and  who  could  waltz 
around  the  floor  with  a  saucer  of  water  on  her  head 
without  spilling  it,  disliked  the  doctrine,  but  was  flat- 
tered by  the  hard  words.  She  had  decided  to  read  it, 
"every  bit,"  and  perhaps  give  a  critical  opinion  to  the 
author  of  its  style.  She  had  a  deep  respect  for  theo- 
logical literature ;  in  her  eyes  no  writer  who  had 
achieved  the  dignity  of  print  was  to  be  lightly 
esteemed ;  what  deference  then  was  not  due  to  an 
author  who  produced  page  after  page  of  doctrine  put 
into  type  and  conveying  not  a  glimmer  of  meaning 
to  Jie7'  intelligence? 

Somehow,  the  rector's  diatribe  seemed  out  of  tune 
with  the  languorous  air,  the  lazy  sails  upon  the  river,  the 
hum  of  insect  life,  the  sound  of  the  scythes  mowing 
a  field  spangled  with  flowers,  the  scent  of  vanilla  grass, 
the  excitement  of  her  heart  over  a  projected  day  from 
home.  The  pamphlet  slipped  away  down  the  hay- 
cock and  was  hopped  upon  by  a  toad — a  fate  quite  as 
inglorious  as  that  of  the  sermons  of  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Chapin  of  Westover  Church,  which.  Bishop  Meade 
records,  served  the  young  ladies  for  paper  in  which  to 
roll  up  their  hair  at  night. 

Besides,  Nutty  fully  meant  to  tackle  the  dance 
question  on  the  first  convenient  opportunity. 

*'I  can't  help  loving  to  dance,  Vic,"  she  said  to  her 
confidante.  "It's  the  only  thing — except  riding — I 
really   do   well.     I   shall  never  be  beautiful  like   Miss 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  59 

Bonnibel — what  I'd  have  wished  would  have  been  to 
be  lovely  and  intellectual  both,  like  Corinne  of  Italy 
(I  haven't  told  you  about  Corinne  yet,  but  I  will); 
but — "  heaving  a  sigh — "I  suppose  I've  got  to  be  satis- 
fied with  storing  my  mind  and  impressing  all  hearers 
when  I  begin  to  speak.  Vic,  when  I  come  out,  I 
mean  to  have  a  dress  of  black  tulle  with  fifty 
flounces." 

"De  laws,  Miss  Nutty !"  interpolated  Vic. 
"Yes,  a  vaporous  mass  of  tulle,  and  a  corsage  bou- 
quet   and  wreath  of  deep  red    roses,  with  a  diamond 
trembling  in  the  heart  of  each." 

"Dat  suttenly  would  be  scrumptious,"  admitted  Vic. 
"Say  beautiful,  Vic;  I  don't  allow  you  to  use  vulgar 
words.  I  wish  I  could  ever  hope  to  wear  my  hair 
Pompadour.  Miss  Bonnibel's  is  too  lovely  over  that 
cushion.  But  my  forehead's  too  high.  I  tried  it, 
and  looked  a  fright.  Now  give  me  that  fat  book,  with 
the  stitches  showing  at  the  back,  and  the  mildewed 
cover — yes,  that's  Froissart." 

"Froissart,  Vic,"  she  went  on,  when  she  had  found 
the  place— Vic  and  the  toad  both  staring  with  bead-like 
eyes  at  vacancy— "was  a  person  who  wrote  a  long 
time  ago  about  Knights  and  fighting.  I  will  begin  at 
a  place  where— oh !  never  mind— it  was  a  battle  called 
Cressy,"  she  said,  her  attention  caught  by  something  in 
a  paragraph  ahead.  "  'The  valyant  Kyng  of  Behaygne 
called    Charles    of    Luzenbourge,   sonne    to   the  noble 


6o  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

Emperour  Henry  of  Luzenbourge,  for  all  that  he  was 
nyghe  blynde' — what  is  nig  blind,  I  wonder?" 

"He  war  des  an  ole  blin'  nigger,  reckon,  ]\Iiss,"  said 
Vic  scornfully.  "Don't  see  no  call  for  Miss  Nutty 
wastin'  time  a-readin'  bout  dat  ar  trash." 

"Oh!  I  see — nearly  blind — ,"  resumed  Ursula, 
"  'when  he  understood  the  order  of  the  batayle,  he  sayd 
to  them  about  him  where  is  the  lord  Charles  my  Son, 
his  men  sayde,  sir  we  cannot  tell,  we  thynke  he  be 
fightinge — '  " 

Nutty  read  on,  forgetful  of  all  beside.  As  the  old 
tale  of  heroic  valor  sank  into  her  sympathetic  soul,  her 
face  grew  hot,  her  eye  shot  gleams  upon  the  page; 
when  the  climax  was  attained,  she  cried  out,  with  a 
thrill  in  her  young  voice,  "Oh,  Vic,  how  beautiful ! 
What  a  grand  old  fellow  that  blind  king  was !  I  be- 
lieve Cousin  Richard  would  act  like  that,  and  Miles 
too.  How  I  love  soldiers  when  they  are  fierce  in  bat- 
tle and  faithful  unto  death !" 

Alas,  for  the  young  Professor!  Vic  had  done  her 
best  to  keep  awake ;  but  what  with  the  compelling 
rays  of  the  sun  rising  to  the  zenith,  the  boom  of  bees, 
and  the  occasional  mispronouncing  of  the  text,  the  lit- 
tle darkey  had  gone  peacefully  to  sleep. 

"Nutty!  O — h  Nutty!"  sounded  Cousin  Polly's 
voice  from  the  back  door  of  the  hall. 

And  now  the  party,  on  pleasure  bent,  was  ready  to 
take  the  road.      Bonnibel,  in  a    frock  of  white    mull 


t^ LOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  6 1 

belted  around  her  slender  waist,  with  bishop  sleeves, 
a  ruffled  black  silk  mantilla,  and  a  scoop  straw  bonnet 
with  a  ruche  inside,  wore  at  her  breast  the  bunch  of 
moss-rosebuds  Dick  had  plucked  before  setting  out. 
She  occupied  the  seat  beside  Cousin  Polly;  and  Nutty, 
both  for  the  pleasure  of  occasionally  handling  the 
ribbons  behind  a  pair  of  spirited  grays  and  for  enjoy- 
ment of  the  open,  sat  next  the  coachman,  an  old  negro 
in  tarnished  but  decent  livery. 

When  the  ladies  drove  out  alone  they  were  usually 
attended  by  a  black  boy,  who  preferred  to  perch  on  the 
trunk  rack  at  the  back,  whistling,  dangling  his  legs,  and 
dropping  down  when  they  stopped  before  a  gate.  As 
there  were  a  dozen  gates  to  open  ere  leaving  the  limits 
of  the  estate,  not  to  speak  of  those  appertaining  to 
their  neighbors,  this  functionary  was  of  the  first  im- 
portance on  a  drive.  Now,  the  carriage  was  escorted 
by  a  pair  of  dashing  cavaliers,  cheerfully  resigned  to 
conform  to  the  neighborhood  expectation  that  they 
would  celebrate  each  return  to  the  plantation  by  calls 
at  the  different  houses. 

Shortly  after  leaving  the  main  avenue  their  road  ran 
beside  the  river  bank  and  at  one  point  disappeared 
entirely  from  view  on  a  strip  of  beach,  the  wheels,  at 
high  tide,  under  water  to  the  hubs — a  state  of  things 
accepted  serenely  as  an  accustomed  feature  of  Virginia 
life.  Their  way  lay  for  the  most  part  through  deep 
woods  under  an  arch  of  forest  boughs,  and  at  the  end 


62  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

of  an  hour  came  to  a  dilapidated  gate,  held  to  its  post 
by  a  loop  of  grape  vine,  and  resisting  stout  efforts  to 
induce  it  to  fly  back.  "This  old  gate  was  broken 
summer  before  last,"  groaned  Miles,  as  at  length  it 
yielded,  to  the  resentment  of  Haidee. 

**Now  for  Windygates  and  poor  Sabina  Ackley," 
said  Cousin  Polly.  "It's  a  trial,  I  confess,  but  we  can't 
well  pass  her  by." 

"I  can't  abide  your  by-gone  belles,"  said  Miles; 
"Mrs.  Ackley  is  a  regular  old  cat." 

"Miles,  my  dear  boy!"  cried  Cousin  Polly.  But  the 
young  men  were  off  at  a  gallop  along  an  ill-mended 
road,  leading  between  cornfields  to  a  gray  house  set  on 
the  bleak  summit  of  a  hill.  There  were  few  signs  of 
life  about  the  neglected  grounds,  except  for  some  lout- 
ish negroes  at  their  lounging  work;  three  or  four 
heifers  and  a  leggy  colt  had  come  in  through  a  gap  in 
the  picket  fence  around  the  house  yard,  and  were  crop- 
ping the  rank  grass ;  a  sow,  lying  vast  and  placid  in 
the  sunshine,  let  herself  be  nosed  over  by  a  vora- 
cious young  family,  pink-eyed  and  curly-tailed,  and 
there  were  the  usual  bands  of  predatory  chickens. 
Close  to  the  house,  and  showing  no  attempt  to  screen 
them,  were  the  stables  and  cow-yards.  Under  a  dead 
tree,  that  at  dusk  offered  a  refuge  to  turkeys  who, 
roosting  in  its  branches,  would  present  the  appear- 
ance of  strange  exotic  fruit,  was  a  hen-house,  the 
unpainted  shingles  of  the   roof  crumbling  in  dry-rot. 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  63 

There  were  no  vines,  no  flower-beds.  The  decrepid 
apple-trees  in  an  adjoining  orchard  had  long  since 
ceased  to  bear.  A  pathetic  rose,  taking  heart  of  grace 
to  bloom  on  a  branch  fallen  over  a  flight  of  precarious 
wooden  steps  to  the  porch,  showed  Nature's  only 
effort  to  beautify  the  scene. 

To  the  pull  at  what  proved  to  be  a  broken  bell 
there  was  no  response.  After  a  knock  from  Miles  that 
set  the  wild  echoes  flying  through  the  silent  house, 
the  door  was  opened  by  a  barefoot  black  girl,  in  tat- 
ters, carrying  under  one  arm  a  wooden  bowl  containing 
a  brood  of  fluffy  chicks  that  lifted  their  yellow  bills  to 
"piep"  a  welcome. 

"How  dye  do,  Peggy;  is  your  Miss  Sabina  at 
home?"  asked  Cousin  Polly  from  the  carriage. 

"You  Peggy,"  came  in  a  stern  voice  from  the  rear, 
"what  business  you  got  carryin'  dem  chickens  to  de 
fron'  do' ;  git  out  wid  you,  chile,  and  tell  Miss  Biney 
de  Flower  de  Hunderd  folks  is  come.  Ya-as,  marm. 
Miss  Polly,  Miss  Biney's  in,  but  she's  got  a  headache, 
an'  gone  to  lay  down.  Please  walk  in,  ladies" ;  and 
Lindy,  a  slovenly  woman  of  mature  years,  ushered  the 
callers  into  the  parlor.  In  the  twilight  of  shutters  ex- 
cluding light  and  air,  were  seen  gentlemen  in  queues 
and  ladies  in  toupets  hung  high  upon  moldering  walls. 
Ranged  beneath  these  disconsolate  gentry  were  horse- 
hair sofas  gone  to  seed,  uncertain  chairs,  Pembroke 
tables  containing  shells,  annuals,  and  fly-blown  puzzle- 


64  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

cards.  Upon  a  torn  curtain,  hung  across  one  of  the 
windows,  a  bright-eyed  mouse  disported  in  full  view  of 
the  company. 

There  was  ample  time  to  enjoy  the  treasures  of  art 
at  Windygates  before  their  mistress  made  her  appear- 
ance. The  voices  of  the  guests,  raised  at  intervals  in 
a  faint  attempt  at  exchange  of  cheerful  common- 
place, died  in  their  throats  of  very  inanition. 

Not  so  the  vocal  organs  of  the  unseen  powers. 
Heralded  by  the  flop  upon  the  stairs  of  slippers  down- 
at-heel,  the  visitors  distinctly  heard  a  strained  whis- 
per in  Mrs.  Ackley's  tones : 

"Lindy !  what  have  you  got  to  give  'em  for  re- 
freshments?" 

"Laws,  Miss  Biney,  you  know  dey  aint  a  smitchin' 
o'  sponge  cake  in  de  box.     Pears  like  dem  chilluns — " 

"For  goodness  sake,  don't  speak  of  the  children 
now.  Judy  can  make  some  paste  cakes,  and  there's 
bounce  a  plenty,  if  it  isn't  as  good  as —  Lindy — just 
you  send  that  Peggy  right  straight  down  to  the  barn 
to  tell  your  master  he's  not  to  put  his  foot  into  the 
parlor  till  he  gets  on  his  black  coat.  Hurry,  Lindy, 
hurry." 

"Lse  a  hurryin',  Miss  Biney,"  came  in  a  tranquil 
drawl.  Nutty  suppressed  a  giggle,  and  Miles  walked 
to  the  window  in  despair. 

A  moment  later,  wreathed  in  affected  smiles,  Mrs. 
Septimius  Ackley,  her  body  inclined    in    the  Grecian 


FLOWER   DE  HUNDRED.  65 

bend   that   came   in   about  the  time    of  Washington's 
administration,  glided  seductively  into  the  room. 

This  lady  had  in  youth  had  the  misfortune  to  be 
styled  the  beauty  of  her  county,  and  was  what  Virgin- 
ians indulgently  speak  of  as  a  "torn-down  little  flirt." 
The  consciousness  of  these  distinctions  had  clung  to 
her  long  after  Time's  effacing  finger  had  destroyed  all 
claim  to  freshness.  She  possessed,  with  a  sad  defi- 
ciency of  teeth,  small  features,  wisps  of  yellow  curls, 
and  a  manner  of  talking  as  if  her  every  utterance  were 
a  concession  to  admirers.  Her  dress,  a  faded  bareo-e 
with  flounces,  was  worn  with  a  wide  embroidered  col- 
lar and  a  brooch  containing  the  portrait,  abnormally 
staring,  of  her  Septimius  in  Sunday  clothes.  Every- 
where that  a  ring,  pin,  chain,  or  bracelet  could  be 
added,  she  had  assumed  these  ornaments ;  and  in  her 
hand  a  large  turkey-tail  fan  was  continually  bran- 
dished  to  point  her  observations. 

*'So  kind  of  you,  dear  Miss  Lightfoot,"  she  ad- 
dressed herself  to  Cousin  Polly;  "and  Miss  Leigh, 
and  Ursula.  Miles,  you  have  positively  grown  out 
of  the  knowledge  of  poor  little  me — and  Dick,  too 
— if  I  had  known  I  was  to  have  a  visit  from  such 
stylish  young  gentlemen  — Y  ou  must  excuse  my 
keeping  you  a  little,  till  I  beautified;  but  that's  a 
lady's  privilege,  I  believe.  Mr.  Ackley?  Yes,  very 
well,  thank  you,  and  the  children,  too.  They  have 
such  rude  health.     Since  I  was  married  I  have  never 


66  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

known  what  it  is  to  feel  really  well.  I  s'pose  it's 
livin'  in  this  quiet  way — no  neighbors  nearer  than 
Helen  Willis  (who  hardly  counts,  poor  soul),  and 
Honey  Hall,  and  you.  If  I  want  to  go  visitin' 
I  can  hardly  ever  get  a  pair.  Twenty  horses  in 
barn  and  pasture,  and  me  kept  mewed  up  here  at 
Windygates.  I  declare,  if  my  mamma  had  known 
when  she  gave  Mr.  Ackley  leave — so  wrapped  up  in 
his  farming — we  haven't  been  to  the  White  Sulphur 
in  three  years — Yes,  that  was  taken  for  me,  Miss 
Leigh.  A  little  flattered,  I'm  afraid.  No?  Really, 
you  are  too  kind.  Some  people  think  the  nose  a 
little — the  hair,  I  don't  deny,  is — and  perhaps  the 
turn  of  the  head — but  the  expression — I've  never  been 
quite  certain  of  the  expression." 

After  a  pause  to  be  reassured  as  to  the  fidelity  to 
life  of  the  smirk  upon  her  portrait,  the  lady  went  on 
in  a  steady  stream,  nobody  venturing  to  interrupt 
until  Dick,  in  a  weary  moment  turning  over  a  pile  of 
songs,  rashly  inquired  if  she  still  kept  up  her  music. 
Charmed  with  an  opportunity  for  a  further  display  of 
graces,  the  fair  Sabina  at  once  transferred  herself  to 
the  piano-stool  and,  handing  her  smelling-bottle  to 
Miles,  her  turkey-tail  to  Dick,  ran  her  fingers  over  the 
keys  of  a  tuneless  instrument. 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  a  little  out  of  practice,"  she  said 
coquettishly.  "What  encouragement  is  there  to  keep 
up  accomplishments  in  a  place  like  this?     Mr.  Ackley, 


FLOWER  BE  HUNDRED.  67 

now,  don't  know  one  tune  from  another.  All  he  likes 
is  some  odious  thing  like  the  'Arkansas  Traveler.* 
The  idea  of  my  playing  vulgar  jig  music — Do  you 
prefer  selections  from  the  operas,  or  a  ballad?  I  have 
been  considered  equally  at  home  in  both." 

Preference  having  been  announced  in  favor  of  the 
simpler  song,  Mrs.  Ackley  obliged  the  company  with 
"Ever  of  thee  I'm  fondly  dreaming,"  followed  by 
"Bird  of  Beauty."  At  the  moment  when  the  unfor- 
tunate bird  had  begun  to  be  apostrophized  with  a 
second  stanza — the  refrain  in  a  high  thin  voice  sup- 
posed to  simulate  his  own  wood  notes  wild — deliver- 
ance, in  the  shape  of  Mr.  Ackley,  came  into  the  room, 
who,  ignoring  his  wife's  performance,  strode  from  one 
guest  to  the  other,  shaking  hands  and  bestowing  bois- 
terous welcome.  He  was  a  burly,  sunburned  man,  with 
a  stain  in  the  corners  of  his  mouth  betraying  acquain- 
tance with  the  Virginia  weed,  and  butternut  trousers 
tucked  into  cowhide  boots.  The  coat,  hastily  pulled 
on  over  a  colored  shirt,  proved  that  he  had  taken  heed 
to  Lindy's  warning,  but  did  not  banish  the  odor  of  the 
stables  distributed  in  his  bustling  movements.  "Miss 
Lightfoot,  Miss  Leigh,  Miss  Nutty,  I'm  glad  to  see 
you.  Welcome  to  Windygates.  The  old  place  isn't 
what  it  was  in  my  father's  day — but  we're  always  glad 
to  see  our  friends.  'Tisn't  often  we've  a  chance  to 
entertain  so  many  charming  ladies  at  one  time.  Well, 
Miles,  you    don't    grow    shorter   as   the    years  go   on. 


68  FLOWER  DE  HUAWRED. 

Never  saw  such  a  Throckmorton  as  you  are.  Dick 
now,  don't  look  Hke  anybody — has  struck  out  for  him- 
self. Come  down  to  the  barn,  boys,  and  take  a  look 
at  the  stock." 

"Mercy,  Mr.  Ackley!"  gasped  his  wife  hysterically; 
"do  pray,  for  once — don't  bring  your  stock  into  the 
parlor.  You  see  how  it  is — "  she  added,  turning  to 
the  audience.  "Actually  he  hadn't  the  least  idea  that 
music  was  going  on." 

"No  more  had  any  of  us,"  whispered  Miles  to 
Ursula. 

"Well,  got  nothing  to  give  these  good  people  after 
their  long  drive,  hey?"  said  the  cheerful  Septimius. 
"Not  a  bone  in  the  cupboard  says  old  Mother  Hub- 
bard, I'll  go  bail." 

"Lindy  has  my  orders,  Mr.  Ackley,"  answered  his 
wife  with  a  freezing  air;  and  at  this  juncture  the  door 
was  kicked  open  by  Lindy's  stalwart  foot,  to  admit 
that  nymph  bearing  a  tray  with  cherry  bounce, 
glasses,  plates — and  a  dish  of  paste  cakes,  hastily,  but, 
to  do  the  cook  justice,  skilfully  compounded. 

"What's  that?  Bounce?"  cried  their  host  scornfully. 
"If  the  gentlemen  will  step  into  the  next  room,  I'll  en- 
gage to  give  'em  something  better  worth  their  while." 

This  inevitable  scene  of  old  time  hospitality — an 
inheritance  from  English  ancestry  Virginia  would  have 
done  well  to  put  earlier  away — was  by  Septimius 
habitually  performed  with  what  he  considered  a  deli- 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  69 

cate  regard  for  the  feelings  of  his  guests.  Two  or 
three  decanters,  produced  from  the  cellaret,  were  set 
with  glasses  on  the  sideboard,  and  the  company 
moved  forward  to  the  charge,- — the  host  turning  his 
back  upon  them  but  rallying  presently  to  fill  his  own 
glass  and  drink  to  the  good  health  of  the  rest. 

"What,  neither  of  you,  lads,"  he  said,  in  a  disap- 
pointed tone.  "Well  if  you  wont,  and  Mrs.  Ackley 
thinks  we  best  not  mention  pigs  and  sheep,  perhaps 
she'll  let  you  have  a  look  at  my  'Blue  Bonnets.'  It's 
a  fact,  by  jingo,  I've  the  finest  lot  of  cocks  this  year  I 
ever  had.  I'll  back  my  beauties  to  win,  sir,  against 
any  in  the  Old  Dominion." 

This  allusion  was  too  much  for  poor  Sabina,  who 
held  her  husband's  celebrity  as  a  champion  cocker  to 
be  an  acknowledgment  of  fall  from  high  estate.  The 
old  practice  of  cock-fighting  had  been  decried  by  press 
and  pulpit  until  few  gentlemen  dared  confess  even 
their  presence  at  a  main,  and  a  professed  breeder  and 
owner  of  such  combatants  was  tabooed  in  good 
society.  Mrs.  Ackley  became  white  and  red  by  turns, 
and  seemed  ready  to  burst  into  tears — at  which  Sep- 
timius,  with  a  grin,  put  an  arm  within  one  of  each 
male  visitor,  and  led  him  unresisting  from  the  roomi. 

And  now  arose  a  clamor  of  youthful  voices.  A 
horde  of  children,  black  and  white,  ran  upon  the  back 
porch — among  them  a  little  tow-headed  girl  in  a 
check  apron,  howling  dismally.     "Oh,  those  children ! 


7©  FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED. 

They  will  be  the  death  of  me!"  exclaimed  the  hostess, 
hastening  to  the  door  to  call  out  for  the  inevitable 
Lindy. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Lindy?"  she  added,  when  the 
deliberate  one  hove  into  view. 

"Laws,  Miss  Biney,  what  you  frettin'  fur?  'Taint 
nutin'  but  jes  Miss  Lizzie  say  she  dun  sot  down  in  a 
yaller  jacket  nes'.  But  you  kyant  'pend  on  dat  are 
chile  not  to  holler  ebbery  chance  she  git." 

*T  do  think  I  must  have  the  worst  children  in  the 
world?"  appealed  Mrs.  Ackley  to  her  guests.  "They 
run  around  so  with  the  little  darkeys  you  can't  stand 
them  when  they  come  inside  the  house.  Luckily, 
they  hardly  ever  want  to  come  into  the  house. 
Lindy,  go  this  minute  and  tell  Miss  Lizzie  to  stop 
crying  before  I  come  there  and  whip  her  well." 

"I  reckon  dis'll  stop  her,"  remarked  Lindy  placidly, 
gathering  up  the  fragments  of  the  feast.  "'Pears  like 
de  mos'  she  cryin'  fur's  to  git  some  o'  de  company's 
paste-cakes,  anyhow." 

The  last  view  of  the  again  smiling  mistress  of 
Windygates,  revealed  her  standing  on  tiptoe  on  the 
desolate  porch,  kissing  her  hand  with  undiminished 
coquetry  to  Miles  and  Dick  as  they  doffed  their  hats 
on  riding  away. 

"If  that  woman  had  given  a  little  less  time  to  her 
so-called  accomplishments,  and  a  little  more  to  house- 
keeping,"   said    Cousin    Polly,    for    once     righteously 


FLOWER  BE  HUiXDRED.  7 1 

irate,  ''there  wouldn't  have  been  such  a  lamentable 
exposure  of  foolishness.  Who  would  believe  Sep- 
timius  Ackley  had  been  a  handsome  young  fellow 
envied  by  all  the  beaux  in  the  county,  when  he  car- 
ried off  Sabina  Barton  from  her  other  suitors  a  dozen 
years  ago?  Dear  me!  dear  me!  And  a  nice  little 
fortune  he  came  into  at  his  father's  death !  Shiftless, 
both  of  them,  and  their  negroes  not  worth  their  salt. 
Well,  if  Helen's  her  usual  self,  our  visit  to  her  will 
take  away  the  taste  of  this." 

Lawyer  Willis  and  his  handsome  wife  Helen  lived 
in  an  old-fashioned  weather-boarded  house,  set  back  in 
a  grove  of  locusts  and  surrounded  by  many  acres  of 
wheat,  which  lent  the  name  of  Greenfields  to  the  place 
first  known  as  Werowocomico  in  the  neighborhood. 
As  the  carriage  drove  around  the  sweep,  the  front  door 
was  at  once  opened  by  a  stately  old  ''mammy"  in 
head-handkerchief  and  apron,  who,  while  her  strong, 
intelligent  face  wore  a  look  of  grief,  smiled  and 
curtsied  the  customary  welcome. 

"Miss  Helen  will  be  glad  to  see  you,  marm,"  she 
said. 

"And  your  master  is  at  home?" 

"No,  madam,  my  marster  left  for  Richmon'  a  yis- 
tiddy,  on  business,"  and  a  look  of  unmistakable  an- 
guish came  over  the  face  of  the  old  woman  who, 
seeing  them  seated,  left  the  drawing-room. 


7 2  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

"There's  something  wrong,"  said  Cousin  Polly,  with 
a  clouded  brow. 

Fifteen  years  before,  when  Peyton  Willis  had  run 
away  with  and  married  Helen  Blair  against  the  will  of 
her  father,  the  old  judge,  who  admired  his  clever  law- 
student,  but  knew  too  well  his  overmastering  tendency 
to  drink,  the  country  had  rung  with  the  Young 
Lochinvar  achievement.  Helen,  a  wilful  beauty,  was 
convinced  of  her  own  power  to  work  any  cure  in  the 
man  who  loved  her  and  followed  her  as  Peyton  Willis 
did.  When  her  father  refused  his  consent,  she  quietly 
packed  her  clothes,  mounted  her  saddle-horse,  and, 
meeting  Willis  at  a  fork  of  the  road  near  her  home, 
rode  to  the  house  of  his  aunt,  twenty  miles  away, 
where  a  clergyman  was  in  waiting  to  make  them  one. 
Trifles  turn  the  scale  of  public  opinion  oftentimes,  and 
after  it  was  ascertained  that  these  lovers  had  been 
obliged  to  swim  their  horses  over  the  boisterous  ford 
of  a  swollen  river  in  their  flight,  people  were  inclined 
to  think  old  Judge  Blair  narrow-minded  for  holding 
out  against  them  for  several  years  after  the  event. 
But  a  day  came  when  Helen,  maddened  by  her  hus- 
band's brutality  when  in  a  drunken  fit,  went  home  of 
her  own  accord,  and  besought  her  father  to  receive  her, 
and  the  Judge  tenderly  and  forgivingly  gave  his  bless- 
ing, but  sent  hej-  back  to  the  husband  of  her  choice. 
Peyton  had,  after  that,  to  some  extent  reformed,  and 
the  years  had  lightened  Helen's  cross.      But  from  a 


P LOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  73 

gallant  young  lover  he  had  become  a  moody,  sarcastic 
husband.  To  the  outer  world  he  was  ever  the  bril- 
liant, fitful,  but  companionable  man,  and  accomplished 
lawyer.  All  of  his  friends  united  to  bolster  Peyton 
Willis  into  his  right  place  in  the  community.  Even 
Richard  Throckmorton,  himself  the  most  abstemious 
of  mortals,  was  heard  to  gloss  over  Peyton's  occasional 
lapses  from  the  path  of  temperance.  *Tt  isn't  a  nice 
habit,"  he  would  say.  "But,  my  dear  sir,  it's  because 
Peyton  can't  take  a  glass  of  wine  without  feeling  it. 
Remember  his  argument  in  the  Carter  case — when  he 
spoke  for  three  days  and  kept  the  Courthouse 
crowded  till  the  last.  Egad,  sir,  his  powers  are  unsur- 
passed. This  love  of  drink  has  played  the  deuce  with 
many  of  our  statesmen  and  lawyers;  but  it  hasn't 
cramped  their  powers.  Look  at  Webster — look  at 
Harry  Clay  dancing  a  jig  on  the  dinner-table  among 
the  broken  glass  and  china,  and  going  into  Court  next 
morning  fresh  as  a  buttercup." 

All  the  same,  the  old  gentleman  would  lead  his 
grandsons  into  the  study  and  adjure  them  in  the  name 
of  Christianity  and  cleanliness  to  let  liquor  alone, 
seeing  the  grievous  wreck  it  had  made  of  so  many 
lives  that  might  else  have  been  rounded  to  man's  full 
sphere  of  usefulness. 

Whatever  Helen  felt,  she  usually  maintained  an  ad- 
mirably calm  exterior.  She  was  still  beautiful,  with 
the  grand  lines  of  face  and  figure  that  change  little  and 


74  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

the  proud  spirit  that  may  bleed  but  gives  no  sign. 
To-day  her  guests  were  greeted  courteously  and 
made  to  feel  the  rare  charm  of  her  conversation ;  but 
as  the  young  people  went  out  to  get  into  the  carriage, 
Cousin  Polly  lingered. 

"Come,  dearie,  what  is  it  that's  troubling  you?"  she 
asked,  passing  her  arm  around  Helen's  shoulders. 

"Oh!  dear  Miss  Polly,"  the  poor  woman  said;  "you 
will  know  how  I  feel.  He  has  sold  Stephen,  old 
Judith's  only  son.  Judith  came  to  me  from  home. 
She  was  my  Mammy,  has  been  with  me  in  joy  and 
sorrow,  and  I  love  her  dearly.  Judith  loves  Stephen 
as  I  loved  the  baby  I  lost — that  I  can  still  feel  nest- 
ling in  my  arms.  The  old  woman's  heart  is  broken. 
Mine  would  be,  but  that  it  broke  long  ago." 

"Tell  me,  my  dear,"  asked  Miss  Polly,  "when  does 
Stephen  go  away  and  where?" 

"Next  week  to  Alabama.  And  I — great  Heavens ! — 
am  as  helpless  as  if  I  too  were  a  slave.  Oh,  the 
shame  of  it !  None  of  us  has  ever  parted  a  family. 
He  said  he  has  been  losing  money — and  that  money  , 
he  must  have.  I'll  declare.  Mammy  Judith  is  a  saint. 
In  this  sorrow  it  is  she  who  comforts  me.  " 

"I  know  the  Colonel  is  opposed  on  principle  to  add- 
ing to  his  slaves.  But  in  this  case — I  will  tell  him. 
He  loves  you,  Helen,  for  yourself,  and  as  the  child  of 
his  old  friend.  For  your  sake,  he  has  stood  by  Pey- 
ton.    He  will  not  see  you  suffer  such  a  wrong." 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  75 

"Then,  oh,  dear  kind  friend !"  cried  Helen,  burst- 
ing into  tears  that  loosed  the  flood-gates  of  her  woe, 
"ask  him,  if  he  loves  me,  to  buy  Mammy,  too.  He 
has  threatened  me  to  part  with  her — when  he  was  not 
himself — I  live  in  terror — Mammy  ! — oh,  the  thought 
is  torture!" 

Cousin  Polly  left  Helen  on  the  sofa,  and  went  out 
to  the  carriage.  At  the  door  she  was  met  and  saluted 
with  the  same  quiet  dignity  by  Mammy  Judith. 

"I've  been  hearing  of  your  trouble,  Judith,"  the 
kind  lady  said;  "Miss  Helen  will  tell  you  I'm  going  to 
speak  to  Colonel  Throckmorton  to  see  if  he  can't  buy 
Stephen  back.  If  it's  possible,  I  think  it  will  be 
done." 

''  Mistis  !  "  cried  the  old  woman,  a  pure  ecstasy  shin- 
ing in  her  tear-worn  face.  And  then,  lifting  her 
streaming  eyes  to  Heaven,  she  meekly  said,  "I  knew 
thou  wouldst  not  fail  thy  sarvant.  Lord." 

Honey  Hall !  To  one  who  has  shared  its  bounties, 
the  heart  warms  at  mention  of  this  "haunt  of  ancient 
peace."  Many  such  generous  old  homes  are  remem- 
bered in  Virginia,  for  methods  of  entertaining  con- 
ducted on  the  broad  and  simple  lines  common  to  peo- 
ple who  altered  not  their  way  of  living  for  the  stran- 
ger within  their  gates ;  they  gave  to  the  State  its  best 
name  for  hospitality. 

Of   outward   show,   and   straining   for   effect   in   the 


76  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

eyes  of  guests  there  was  none;  and  the  welcome 
flowed  in  a  steady  stream  for  all.  Honey  Hall,  since 
time  out  of  mind,  had  been  owned  by  Hazletons. 
"Old  Tom,"  the  present  master,  had  kept  his  paternal 
acres  up  to  a  high  point  of  cultivation,  his  wheat 
crops  excelling  those  of  Flower  de  Hundred.  A  thin, 
swarthy  old  gentleman,  with  twinkling  eyes  set  in  a 
wrinkled  visage,  he  presented  a  complete  contrast  to 
his  spouse  "Tabby,"  who  was  stout  and  blonde,  with 
several  chins  and  abundant  dimples.  She  was  a  notable 
housewife,  spending  her  days  at  the  heels  of  a  horde 
of  fat,  lazy  house  servants,  whose  duties  were  sub- 
divided to  allot  to  each  the  minimum  of  labor.  After 
the  war  two  of  the  Honey  Hall  negroes,  girls  of  six- 
teen and  eighteen,  drifted  to  the  North  and  applied 
for  places  at  an  intelligence  office.  On  being  asked 
"Can  you  cook?"  their  answer  was,  "No,  marm,  we 
ain'  never  bin  cookin'  none;  Aunt  Peg,  she  alius 
cook."  "Can  you  wash?"  "No,  marm.  Aunt  Sally 
she  dun  de  quality's  washin'."  "Then  for  graci- 
ous sake,  what  can  you  do?"  said  the  employer. 
"Well,  marm.  Jinny  most  in  general  she  hunt  for  ole 
Marster's  specs;  en  I  kep  de  flies  off  him  wid  de 
turkey-tail." 

Mrs.  Hazleton's  temper  was  fortunately  proof 
against  any  test  of  idle  inconsequence  on  the  part  of 
her  dependents.  She  spoiled  them  and  everybody 
who  came   Avithin    reach    of    her  large-hearted  nature 


FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED.  77 

overflowing;  with  the  milk  of  human  kindness.  She 
was  always  in  a  hurry,  with  cap-strings  flying;  and 
she  talked  in  a  breathless  fashion  which  permitted  few 
of  her  sentences  to  reach  a  legitimate  ending. 

Tom,  fierce  in  politics,  unsparing  in  the  denuncia- 
tion of  opponents  who  chanced  to  differ  with  him,  and 
fancying  himself  a  domestic  tyrant,  was,  with  his  wife, 
under  the  thumb  of  old  Vashti,  a  mulatto  woman  who 
acted  as  deputy  to  Mrs.  Hazleton.  Volunteering  for 
the  Mexican  war,  he  had  brought  back  a  flesh  wound, 
establishing  him  in  Vashti's  eyes  as  a  confirmed  inva- 
lid, requiring  coddling  and  supervision  for  the  remain- 
der of  his  life.  There  is  nothing  more  easy  than  to 
convince  a  robust  man,  with  a  good  appetite  and  diges- 
tion, that  he  has  the  monopoly  of  some  hidden  in- 
firmity exceptional  in  symptoms,  and  necessitating  con- 
stant care.  Playing  upon  this  string  of  human  nature, 
Vashti  had  established  herself  in  the  clover  of  an 
opiniated  woman's  imagination — the  right  to  dictate, 
to  hector,  to  dose,  ad  libitum,  a  resentful  but  secretly 
flattered  patient  of  the  stronger  sex.  She  was  a  sour- 
looking  yellow  woman,  scrupulously  neat  in  person 
and  accomplished  in  her  domestic  functions.  Every- 
thing "laughed"  at  Honey  Hall,  but  Vashti,  as  every- 
thing "waxed  fat,"  but  Vashti's  master. 

Old  Tom's  happiness  was  in  crowding  his  house 
with  visitors,  until  the  spare  rooms,  containing  some- 
times three   double   beds  apiece,  were  full  and  guests 


7S  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

were  obliged  to  put  up  with  cots  in  the  billiard  room 
and  mattresses  in  the  bowling-alley.  At  a  summer 
ball  young  men  had  been  known  to  camp  out  in 
the  hay-loft  at  the  barn,  and  to  proceed  in  relays  for 
breakfast  at  the  house. 

Before  his  visitors  were  stirring  in  the  morning, 
Tom  would  leave  the  connubial  "charmber"  on  the 
ground  floor,  to  brew  two  jorums,  differing  in  size,  of 
the  beverage  blending  Bourbon  whisky  and  shivered 
ice  with  the  plant  that  flourisheth  best  on  the  grave  of 
a  good  Virginian.  His  mint-juleps,  tinkling  and  frag- 
rant, were  then  sent  around  to  the  several  apart- 
ments with  "Marster's  compliments."  To  refuse  this 
loving-cup  would  have  been  a  breach  of  duty  to  one's 
host.  Therefore — tradition  tells  not  what  befell  that 
dispatched  to  the  bedsides  of  male  slumberers, — there 
might  have  been  seen  rosy  half-awakened  maidens, 
leaning  on  rounded  elbows  in  bowers  of  tumbled  hair 
to  sip  like  hummii)g-birds  of  the  sugared  chalice  held 
by  an  ebon  Hebe. 

"Horrid!  So  dreadfully  strong,"  they  called  it,  and 
sipped  again. 

"It's  good  for  you,  young  ladies,"  would  say  old 
Tom  at  breakfast,  on  hearing  these  complaints.  "A 
little  something  for  the  stomach's  sake,  you  know! 
Keeps  off  chills  and  fever  too — not  that  there  ever 
was  a  chill  at  Honey  Hall  in  my  time — well,  Tabby, 
my  dear,  and  what  have  you  got  for  us  this  morning?" 


P LOWER   DE  HUNDRED.  79 

As  the  callers  from  Flower  de  Hundred,  turning  in 
at  a  linden  avenue  caught  their  first  sight  of  the 
house,  they  were  in  turn  descried  by  the  sole  waking 
occupant  of  what  Cupid,  the  being  in  question,  was 
wont  to  speak  of  as  "de  front  poche."  In  a  splint- 
bottomed  chair,  under  the  shadow  cast  by  a  multiflora 
rose  that  running  up  one  side  of  the  portal  crossed  it 
and  fell  in  a  blossoming  cascade  upon  the  other,  old 
Tom  was  napping.  Dressed  from  top  to  toe  in  white 
linen,  he  wore  a  broad  Panama  hat,  and  across  his 
knees  lay  a  week-old  copy  of  the  Richmond  Whig. 
In  Tom's  opinion  one  might  always  sleep  and  let  the 
Richmond  Whig  sustain  one's  principles.  Not  far  off, 
tliere  was  a  shelf  with  a  bucket  of  spring  water  and  a 
gourd;  but  the  empty  glass  on  a  light  stand  at  his 
elbow  revealed  suggestive  particles  of  nutmeg  clinging 
to  its  sides.  Mounted  on  a  stool  behind  his  master, 
Cupid,  a  solemn  urchin  of  ten,  was,  with  a  branch  of 
lilac-leaves,  describing  circles  in  the  air  around  the 
sleeper's  head.  Occasionally  miscalculating,  he  would 
dip,  graze  the  old  gentleman's  ear  and  elicit  a  whist- 
ling snort  causing  the  offender  to  assume  an  instant 
expression  of  fidelity  to  duty  that  could  on  no  terms 
be  moved  to  deviate. 

When  Cupid  spied  the  carriage  the  whites  of  his 
eyes  enlarged  and  his  excitement  transgressed  all 
bounds  of  ordinary  decorum.      'Wake  up,  Ole  Marse !" 


So  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

he  cried,  smartly  sweeping  the  hlac  bough  downward 
to  touch  his  master's  cheek. 

"What!  What!  D— n  these  flies!"  said  old  Tom, 
drowsily,  settling  for  a  deeper  sleep. 

Cupid's  feelings  overcame  him.  Dropping  the 
bough,  he  fled  into  the  house  to  encounter  the  mete- 
oric Tabby  coming  across  the  hall. 

"Ole  Miss,  dar's  company,"  he  exclaimed  convul- 
sively. 

"Well,  Cupid,  rouse  your  master  up.  Hurry,  and 
don't  stand  staring  there." 

"But,  Ole  Miss,  I  dun  tried;  and  he  sa-ade  cuss 
words." 

"Well,  I  should  think  somebody  might  be  found  to 
save  me  from  having  to  do  this,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Hazleton,  dashing  outside  to  reclaim  her  lord  from  his 
lotus  land  of  dreams. 

"Run,  Cupid,  tell  Aunt  Vashti  the  Flower  de  Hun- 
dred carriage  has  turned  down  the  avenue.  Lucky  I 
killed  a  pair  of  guinea  hens,  the  ducklings  mightn't 
have  been  enough.  Soc-ra-tes!  Aw!  Soc-ra-tes! 
Call  Job  and  Jingo  to  come  here  and  take  the  horses. 
Now  Tom  dear,  do  be  careful  of  what  you  eat  at  din- 
ner; you  know  I  don't  like  to  make  signs  before — 
remember  the  crab  salad  the  last  time  w^e'd  company 
to— when  you  thought  neither  Vashti  nor  I  was  look- 
ing— Vashti,  be  sure  Dido  has  a  corn  pudding — Master 


FLOWER   DE  HUNDRED.  8l 

Miles  will  have  it  there's  no  corn  pudding  like  ours  at 
Honey  Hall — and  be  on  the  watch  that  Joe  don't  get 
hold  of  the  floating  island  to  hand  around — he  stares 
so,  you  can  only  trust  him  with  solid  dishes — put  the 
cracked  finger-bowls  before  me  and  your  master — I 
declare  I'd  have  to  be  made  of  finger  bowls  to  please 
these  servants — I  hope  Dido  wont  get  in  one  of  her 
tantrums  and  keep  the  dinner  back  till  three— to  be 
sure  they'll  have  something  when  they  come,  poor 
things,  and  we'll  cut  a  watermelon  soon — Vashti — ah  ! 
she's  gone;  Cupid,  you  numbskull,  run  tell  her  not  to 
forget  iced  tea  with  the  lemonade  and  shrub  when 
they  first  come.  Polly  Lightfoot's  there,  and  so  is 
Bonnibel — bless  me,  if  there  isn't  a  snag  in  my  new 
lawn— I  must  ha'  caught  it  on  a  barrel  in  the  store- 
room— tut — tut — tut,  but  there's  no  time  now  to — here 
come  the  boys  at  a  gallop— welcome  to  Honey  Hall, 
young  gentlemen,  the  sight  of  you  is  good  for  any 
eyes." 

Tabby  could  not  deny  herself  the  indulgence  of  a 
rousing  kiss  bestowed  on  each  one  of  these  handsome 
youths.  The  carriage  followed,  and  old  Tom  stepped 
out  briskly  to  the  block.  "Ladies,  your  most  obedi- 
ent—Welcome, welcome  all— Miss  Nutty,  there's  a 
bee-hive  waiting  for  you  to  upset  like  you  did  when 
you  were  here  before— well  well,  I'll  not  mention  it — 
How  are  you,  boys?— told  we're  to  congratulate  you 
on  carrying  off  the  honors— bless  my  soul,  I   reckon 


82  FLOWER  BE  HUNDRED. 

old  Dick  Throckmorton's  that  puffed  up  with  pride 
there'll  be  no  enduring  him — Miss  Bonnibel,  we  didn't 
expect  to  see  cheeks  like  yours  till  my  peaches  ripen, 
he,  he,  he !  Miss  Lightfoot,  ma'am,  I  trust  you're 
satisfied  that  it  was  my  revoke,  not  yours — well,  well, 
women  will  have  their  way,  but,  after  dinner,  you  must 
give  me  my  revenge." 

"Howdye,  howdye,  come  right  in  and  rest,"  was 
heard  in  Tabby's  breathless  sentences.  "Thank  ye 
kindly,  Dick,  we're  so  so;  Mr.  Hazleton's  most  always 
a  touch  of  his  old  enemy  on  hand — keeps  Vashti 
busy,  doesn't  it,  Tom  dear?  Been  preserving  quinces, 
— thankful  it's  so  cool — sit  down,  take  something,  do — 
Vashti's  own  black  cake — needn't  be  afraid  when 
Vashti  stones  the  raisins — Tea  to  Miss  Lightfoot — sure 
none  of  you're  overheated — give  palm  leaf  fans  to  the 
ladies,  Cupid,  quick — such  a  sad  thing  about  Mrs.  Pat- 
sey  Carmichael,  of  the  Ridge — why,  haven't  you  heard, 
iced  tea  when  very  hot  and  a  rash  that  struck  inside — 
fie  Miles,  I'll  be  boun'  for  you  to  laugh." 

'Tol'able,  thank  you,"  Tom  was  saying  to  Miss 
Lightfoot.  "These  women'd  be  the  death  o'  me  with 
doctoring,  if  they  could — Tabby  now's  a  leetle  poorly ; 
caught  cold  a  Monday,  comin'  home  from  old  Parker's 
funeral,  and  up  again  a-Wednesday  to  go  to  Miss  Dan- 
cer's weddin — he  !  he !  he  !  Trust  Tabby,  when  there's 
junketin'  on  hand." 

They  were  shown  through  a  matted  hall — the  walls 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  83 

covered  with  guns,  rods,  whips,  a  museum  of  Tom's 
old  hats,  prints  of  race  horses,  and  a  map  of  the  county, 
with  the  seat  of  Thomas  Hazleton,  Esq.,  outHned  in 
red — into  a  pleasant  room,  the  bare  floor  lustrous,  the 
six  windows  hung  with  lambrequins  of  fringed  netting 
over  Venetian  blinds. 

In  this  room  neatness  reigned  over  a  prim  adjust- 
ment of  old-fashioned  furniture.  In  the  fireplace,  an 
ogre  that  in  its  day  had  devoured  forests,  the  brass 
dogs  gleamed  through  a  green  mist  of  fresh  asparagus. 
On  the  high  mantel-piece  were  silver  candelabra, 
ostrich  eggs,  and  Bow  and  Chelsea  shepherdesses.  The 
chairs  and  sofas  covered  with  hair  cloth  and  abundant 
in  brass  nails,  stood  in  rigid  ranks.  Cupboards  were 
filled  with"  pretty  old  china,  behind  glass  doors  and 
under  lock,  or  Tabby's  servants  would  not  have  allowed 
it  to  remain.  On  the  center  table  were  "The  Memoirs 
of  an  Elderly  Gentleman,"  by  Lady  Blessington, 
the  poems  of  Mrs.  Hemans,  of  Nathaniel  Parker  Wil- 
lis, and  other  specimens  of  politest  literature  in  red 
morocco.  Ursula,  seated  on  an  ottoman  worked  by 
Tom's  mother  to  represent  Melrose  Abbey  by  moon- 
light, ate  nibbles  of  cake  and  drank  sips  of  raspberry 
vinegar,  divided  between  a  desire  to  plunge  at  once 
into  the  pages  of  Lady  Blessington,  and  to  run  out 
into  the  orchard  where  the  bees  were  hard  at  work. 
Etiquette  entailed  this  brief  preliminary  concession  to 
formality.      People   sat   around,  'untied    their   bonnet 


84  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

strings,  fanned  themselves,  answered  questions  about 
each  other's  ailments,  and  then,  after  a  decent  interval, 
scattered  to  follow  their  own  sweet  wills.  From  the 
flower  garden,  where  Tabby  was  greatly  given  to  the 
culture  of  clove-pinks,  were  wafted  through  the  chinks 
of  the  window  shutters  perfumes  that  might  have 
come  from  Araby  the  blest.  Vashti  did  not  allow  cut- 
flowers  in  the  parlor,  and  thus  nature  took  her  odorous 
revenge. 

When  the  season  lent  its  aid,  Tom  always  invited 
his  guests  to  come  out  into  the  "back  poche"  and  cut 
a  watermelon ;  and  the  company  proceeded  with  alac- 
rity to  follow  him.  Thither,  little  darkeys,  staggering 
under  the  weight  of  melons  coated  with  dew  from 
the  ice  house,  came  in  a  procession  to  lay  their  tribute 
at  the  master's  feet.  Old  Tom,  with  a  critical  eye, 
decided  whether  they  were  worthy  to  be  broached. 
Half  the  pleasure  of  a  watermelon  is  in  the  uncertainty 
whether  its  pink  pulp  will  fulfill  the  promise  of  the 
richly  green  and  mottled  coat — for  on  this  point  there 
is  no  infallibility  of  judgment  based  on  externals. 
Equally  interested  in  the  result  were  an  assortment  of 
young  Africans  hiding  in  a  big  bush  of  box  that  in  its 
day  had  sheltered  many  chickens  and  children  fleeing 
from  wrath  pursuing.  They,  and  the  bearers  of  the 
treasure,  followed  the  movements  of  the  master  with  a 
subtile  relish  almost  as  satisfying  as  the  reality  for 
which  they  hoped.     It  is  not  too  much  to   say  that 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  05 

this  feeling  presently  inspired  the  whole  circle  of 
lookers-on  to  realize  they  were  brothers  in  the 
bonds  of  a  mouth-watering  anxiety.  When  Tom 
found  a  melon  to  his  liking,  it  was  set  before  him  on 
a  tray.  With  a  long  sharp  knife  poised  over  it,  he 
stood,  then  the  blade  flashed  through  the  air,  and  the 
great  oval  fell  apart,  revealing  contents  crisp,  roseate 
of  hue,  set  with  rows  of  black-brown  seeds.  Uncer- 
tainty was  at  an  end !  The  melon  was  ripe,  full  ripe, 
not  over-ripe,  luscious  in  quality,  bursting  with  July's 
juices !  Involuntarily  the  assembly  broke  into  an 
**A-h-h-h"  of  relief  and  satisfaction ! 

Another  polite  form  maintained  at  Honey  Hall,  was 
to  ask  visitors,  confidentially,  if  they  cared  to  "lie 
down  a  little  while  and  take  a  nap."  The  young 
people,  who  knew  where  to  find  bowls  and  billiards, 
fruit  and  flowers,  shaded  arbors,  and  the  streamlet 
gliding  across  the  orchard,  generally  preferred  to  keep 
awake ;  Tabby  and  Cousin  Polly,  resorting  to  rocking 
chairs  in  the  **charmber,"  enjoyed  a  feminine  sympo- 
sium of  gentle  gossip.  Tabby,  outwardly  serene,  had 
always  a  perturbed  center  on  the  subject  of  Dido  and 
the  dinner-hour.  The  kitchen,  in  an  outbuilding  at 
the  end  of  a  colonnade,  was  Dido's  fortress.  Once 
Tabby  had  there  administered  a  long-intended  lecture 
on  procrastination.  '*Ye  call  that  scoldin',  Miss,"  said 
the  old  cook,  setting  her  arms  a-kimbo ;  "why  you 
can't  scold  worth  a  cent."     And  the  dinner  hour  con- 


86  FLOWER   DE  HUNDRED. 

tinued  to  adjust  itself  to  Dido's  notions,  drifting 
until  recalled,  along  the  afternoon. 

When  the  company  reassembled  to-day  around  a 
well-spread  board,  set  with  willow  pattern  china,  old 
Tom,  standing  at  the  foot  with  his  hand  upon  his  chair, 
surveyed  the  table  and  uttered  his  usual  pleasantry : 

''Well,  is  this  your  little  snack,  Tabby?" 

"Best  we  could  do  to-day,  Tom  dear,  considerin' — " 
the  hostess  answered,  with  an  indulgent  smile. 

"Humph!  For  what  we  are  about  to  receive,  may 
the  Lord  make  us  duly  thankful — Amen.  Miss  Light- 
foot,  ma'ami,  I'm  goin'  to  ask  you  to  notice  the  flavor 
of  this  ham — a  leetle  slice — hum  !  hum  !  cooked  to  a 
T — the  lean,  pink  as  a  lady's  cheek — the  fat,  sweet  as 
a  nut — bless  my  soul,  Tabby,  my  dear,  if  I  haven't 
clean  forgot  whether  we're  eatin'  Sis  or  Alick!" 

"Alick,  Tom  dear.  Sis  wasn't  killed,  poor  thing,  till 
just  before  last  Christmas." 

"To  be  sure.  Tabby,  to  be  sure.  I  ought  to  have 
known  Alick,"  said  the  master,  holding  his  carver  sus- 
pended with  a  pensive  air.  "He  weighed  all  of  a 
hundred  and  twenty-five.  Miss  Lightfoot,  ma'am,  and 
knew  his  name  like  any  Christian.  Billy,  you  rascal, 
hand  Miss  Lightfoot's  plate." 

Bonnibel's  room  was  in  the  old  wing  at  Flower  de 
Hundred  v/hose  outer  walls  of  brick,  alternately  black 
and   cream,  were  coated  with  moss  wherever  English 


FLOWER  BE   HUNDRED.  87 

ivy  did  not  weave  its  stems  to  make  a  bower  for  the 
*'Belle  au  Bois  Dormant"  here  and'  there  piercing 
the  window  frames  with  long  pale  shoots  that  un- 
folded leaves  of  ghostly  green  within.  Her  chamber 
adjoined  that  of  Ursula,  and  to  reach  their  quarters 
the  girls  had  to  mount  narrow  stairs  with  a  balustrade 
carved  like  a  Chinese  ivory  puzzle  and  continued 
around  the  entry  above  after  the  fashion  of  a  musi- 
cian's gallery.  Naturally,  Ursula's  pleasure  was  to 
insinuate  herself  into  Bell's  room  when  the  latter  was 
brushing  her  hair  for  the  night,  and  talk  of  her  day's 
experience  with  unflagging  tongue.  It  was  their  habit 
in  summer  to  dispense  with  light  as  much  as  possible, 
and  to  undress  by  the  glimmer  of  a  taper  set  on  the 
floor  in  the  hall  outside.  Cousin  Polly,  from  the  room 
opposite,  often  called  out  to  the  pair  to  cease  their 
chattering,  and  remember  beauty  sleep ;  but  Bell 
would  answer  back  that  such  nights  were  too  heavenly 
to  waste  in  slumber. 

On  the  evening  of  their  return  from  Honey  Hall, 
Bonnibel  had  seated  herself  at  her  window,  Ursula 
kneeling  with  both  arms  on  the  low  sash.  The  light 
breeze  was  charged  with  odors  of  pine  blowing  past 
garden  plots.  In  the  sapphire  vault  above,  stars  of 
the  Southern  night  burnt  with  surpassing  brilliancy. 
In  the  swamp  a  persistent  whip-poor-will  kept  calling, 
lamenting.  From  the  dusky  belt  of  woods  hiding  the 
quarter   issued   the  twang   of   banjo-strings   and    soft 


88  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

preliminary  notes    of   song    from    revelers,    for  whom 
the  night  had  just  begun. 

"What  do  you  think,  Bonnibel?"  said  Ursula, 
trembling  with  mystery.  ''If  I  tell,  will  you  cross  your 
heart  and — deed  and  deed  and  double  deed  you'll 
never  tell?  I  heard  Mrs.  Hazleton — say  to  Cousin 
Polly — now  you'll  jump — that  it  is  plain  to  everybody 
that  has  eyes  in  her  head,  luho  is  going  to  be  the 
next  mistress  of  Flower  de  Hundred — Miss  A.  L. ! — 
There !" 

"Nonsense,  Nutty  dear,"  the  girl  said,  blushing 
hotly  in  the  darkness. 

"Ah!  but  she  did,"  persisted  Nutty.  "And  I 
expect  she  knows.  She's  been  married  herself,  you 
see.  I  thought  it  would  please  you  a  good 
deal." 

"Kiss  me,  you  dear  little  gossip,"  whispered  Bonni- 
bel.    "And  promise  you'll  not  repeat  this  to  anybody 

se, 

"Oh!  but  I  haven't  told  you  all.  Cousin  Polly  said 
the  Lord  only  knows  how  such  things  come  out ;  but 
one  thing  she  is  certain  of,  the  Colonel  will  like  Dick's 
choice.  Then  the  dinner  bell  rang — Oh !  Bonnibel,  it 
must  be  so  grand  to  have  a  lover.  Dick  seems  as  if 
he  envies  the  ground  you  tread  upon.  I  saw  him 
choosing  the  moss-rose  buds  for  you.  He  threw  away 
every  one  that  wasn't  perfect.  Why,  if  you  haven't 
saved  the  poor  dead  things,  and  put  them  in  a  glass  of 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  89 

water  on  the  window-sill.  Why,  Bonnibel ! — Hush — 
who's  that?" 

From  behind  the  tall  column  of  an  Irish  yew,  a 
form  came  out  into  the  moonlit  path  of  turf  beneath 
their  window,  and  crossed  rapidly  in  the  direction  of 
the  main  building. 

"It's  Miles!"  cried  the  little  girl.  "He  gave  me 
quite  a  start.  He's  always  had  a  way  of  prowling 
around  the  grounds  at  night  to  smoke  his  last  cigar. 
Bonnibel!  I'm  sorry  I  talked  so  loud.  He  must 
have  heard  us!  But,  of  course,  he  wont  speak  of  it. 
And  then  he's  so  fond  of  Dick,  he'll  be  sure  to  feel^ 
glad,  too." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"Here's  news  for  you,  young  people,"  said  the 
Colonel,  returning  with  animation  from  an  interview 
on  the  veranda  with  Yellow  Jock,  the  huntsman. 
"Jock  says  there's  been  a  fox  lying  all  day  in  the  long 
grass  near  the  pond,  waving  his  saucy  brush  to  attract 
the  ducks;  and  they've  tracked  him  to  covert  in 
Chinquapin  Hollow." 

"Hurrah!"  cried  Dick,  Miles,  and  Nutty  in  a  breath, 
and  soon  the  contagion  spread  over  the  plantation. 
Messengers  on  horseback  were  dispatched  to  their 
nearest  neighbors,  and  hasty  arrangements  made  for 
an  impromptu  "first  run"  upon  the  morrow. 

It  was  mid-October,  and  the'  wine  of  life  seemed  to 
be  distilled  into  those  long  mellow  autumn  days,  spent 
by  the  household  chiefly  out  of  doors.  The  woods, 
radiant  in  color,  showed  no  deciduous  foliage  to  com- 
pare in  tone  and  depth  with  the  mandarin  yellows 
flecked  with  blood,  the  Tyrian  crimsons  and  purples 
of  the  gums  belted  or  grouped  against  the  blue- 
green  pines  and  relieved  by  shining  hollies  and 
masses  of  evergreen  laurel.  In  these  illuminated 
glades  sounded  the  flute  note  of  the  robin,  the  fretful 
call  of  crows,  the  bark  of  acorn-gathering  squirrels,  the 

90 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  9^ 

whistle  of  "Bob  White,"  the  tap  of  woodpeckers,  the 
patter  of  nuts  falling,  obedient  to  a  gentle  wind,  upon 
the  rustling  carpet  of  last  year's  leaves  so  soon  to  be 
overlaid  with  a  new  one.  In  the  trim  parterres  of  the 
garden  there  was  still  a  brave  show  of  flowers.  Japan 
lilies,  tiger  lilies.  Annunciation  lilies,  perpetual  roses, 
poppies,  love-in-a-mist,  and  all  the  sweet  wild  tangle  of 
hardier  blossoms  with  homely  cottage  names ;  but  the 
hollyhocks  had  begun  to  slant  earthward  under  the 
weight  of  seed-pods,  and  yellowing  leaves  fluttering 
from  the  boughs  hinted  at  the  inevitable  change  to 
come.  For,  though  we  touch  and  taste  in  its  perfec- 
tion that  season  when  "the  air,  the  heavenly  bodies, 
and  the  earth  make  a  harmony  as  if  Nature  would 
indulge  her  offspring" ;  when  "the  day,  immeasurably 
long,  sleeps  over  the  broad  hills  and  warm  wide 
fields,"  and  "to  have  lived  through  its  sunny  hours 
seems  longevity  enough,"  there's  no  heart  but  gives  a 
sigh  to  happy  summer  gone ! 

"What !"  thundered  Miles,  in  answer  to  a  whispered 
communication  brought  to  him  in  the  harness  room 
that  afternoon  by  one  of  the  negroes,  while  the  young 
men  were  looking  over  their  hunting  gear — in  com- 
pany with  the  two  girls  who  felt  "so  happy  they  could 
not  stay  sitting  down,"  so  averred  Ursula. 

"That  confounded  old  black  charlatan  Daddy  Jack, 
who  does  more  harm  on  the  place  than  he  ever  did 
work,  has  wreaked  his  vengeance  on  Yellow  Jock  for 


92  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

some  offense  unknown,  by  'tricking  him,' "  he  ex- 
plained to  his  curious  companions. 

"Which  means  unless  we  can  persuade  Daddy  Jack 
to  'set  him  free'  we'll  lose  Jock's  services  to-morrow 
with  the  hounds,"  said  Dick,  in  huge  disgust. 

"Come  on  then,  let's  lose  no  time  in  seeing  both  of 
'em,"  said  Miles. 

''Please  let  us  go  with  you,"  plead  Ursula.  "I'rn  a 
favorite  with  Daddy  Jack.  That  is,  he  don't  scowl  at 
me,  and  once  gave  me  a  tame  garter-snake.  Besides, 
Bonnibel  has  never  seen  his  cabin.  She's  afraid  to  go 
with  me." 

"I  don't  blame  her,"  said  Miles  as  they  set  off.  'T 
own  to  a  cold  creep  down  my  own  back  when  I  come 
within  sight  of  the  old  sorcerer's  den.  There  isn't  a 
negro  on  the  plantation  that  could  be  got  to  go  there 
after  dark.  They  credit  Jack  with  being  in  direct 
daily  communication  with  the  infernal  regions." 

"  'Satan's  limb,'  Mammy  Judy  calls  him,"  added 
Dick.  "She  is  the  only  one  brave  enough  to  say  as 
much.  But  she  was  scared  out  of  her  wits,  when  we 
were  little  shavers,  when  the  old  fellow  took  offense  at 
Miles  and  threatened  him." 

"She  tied  a  charm-bag  around  my  neck,"  said  Miles. 
"And  I  can  remember  curious  whisperings  near  my 
mosquito  net  when  I  was  tucked  into  my  cot.  The 
truth  is  that  old  fellow  can  hold  a  grudge  longer  than 
anything  I   ever  heard   of,  but  the   Pope's  mule   that 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  93 

kept  a  kick  for  seven  long  years  and  then  sent  his 
enemy  to  purgatory  with  his  heels." 

"How  did  you  offend  him?"  asked  Bonnibel. 

"He  had  the  most  extraordinary  passion  for  odds 
and  ends  of  finery,  and  on  holidays  would  always  deck 
himself  and  strut  out  before  the  others  as  solemn  as 
could  be.  Our  nurse  had  taken  us  to  visit  the  quarter 
when  I  suddenly  caught  sight  of  the  little  old  man, 
dressed  in  a  red  plush  waistcoat,  knee  breeches,  a  coat 
of  my  grandfather's  with  tails  that  trailed  upon  the 
ground,  and  a  child's  straw  hat  perched  on  the  summit 
of  a  pyramid  of  frizzed  wool.  Of  course  I  laughed  at 
him,  pointed  him  out  with  my  imprudent  baby  finger, 
and  mocked  his  gestures.  He  was  furious.  I  can 
remember  he  was  like  an  angry  ape,  dancing  and  gib- 
bering and  threatening  me.  The  negroes  picked  up 
their  children  and  ran  inside  their  cabins,  and  Mammy 
Judy  did  likew^ise  with  Dick  and  me.  Since  then,  I've 
been  written  in  his  black  books." 

"His  father  was  a  Congo  chief  sold  for  a  string  of 
beads,  and  Jack  was  thrown  into  the  bargain  for  a 
looking-glass,  he  told  me,"  observed  Dick.  "He  has 
been  here  since  my  grandfather's  early  boyhood,  and 
no  one  knows  his  real  age.  The  extraordinary  part  of 
his  romance  is  that  he  induced  a  nice,  trig,  pretty  little 
maid  of  grandmamma's  to  marry  him.  She  lived  with 
him  awhile,  and  then  came  running  into  the  house 
one  day  and  begged  for  protection,  saying  he'd  given 


94  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

her  her  'death.'  The  poor  distracted  creature  brought 
her  child,  a  handsome  little  boy;  and  Daddy  Jack 
came  after  them.  But  by  that  time  matters  were  too 
far  gone,  and  poor  Kitty  was  actually  dying.  They 
could  not  find  out  that  he  had  done  her  real  violence. 
Mammy  Judy  always  said  the  old  wTetch  was  jealous, 
and  had  punished  Kitty  by  bringing  the  'night  doctor' 
who  rides  on  a  gale  of  wind  after  dark,  to  see  her. 
Judy  well  remembers  grandmamma's  distress  when 
Kitty  died." 

"And  what  became  of  her  son?"  inquired  Bonnibel, 
for  whom  these  tales  of  the  plantation  were  full  of 
interest. 

Dick's  voice  dropped. 

"He  was  Augustus — brought  up  to  be  the  body-ser- 
vant of  my  father.  Daddy  Jack  cast  him  off,  and  my 
grandfather  was  only  too  glad  to  keep  the  boy  away 
from  such  an  influence.  'Gus,'  as  they  called  him,  is  a 
sore  subject  with  the  Colonel,  though ;  and  none  of  us 
ever  mention  him.  He  is  the  only  slave  of  my  grand- 
father's who  ever  ran  away." 

The  conversation  was  here  broken  by  their  arrival  at 
the  door  of  Yellow  Jock's  cabin.  The  old  negro  lay 
on  his  bed,  inside,  groaning  piteously,  his  badly  fright- 
ened wife  rocking  her  body  back  and  forth  and  ejacu- 
lating prayers  on  a  chair  beside  him.  Around  the 
room  was  seated  a  circle  of  sympathizers,  swaying  and 
singing.     The  girls  caught  one  glimpse  of  Jock's  con- 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  95 

vulsed  face,  froth  issuing  from  his  lips,  and  retreated 
in  horror  from  the  scene. 

"Two  hours  ago,  the  old  fellow  was  as  hale  and 
hearty  as  you  please,"  said  Dick.  "From  what  I  can 
ascertain.  Daddy  Jack  merely  stepped  behind  and 
touched  him  with  a  goose-feather  on  the  ear,  and  Jock 
fell  down  in  a  swoon.  But  all  the  King's  horses  and 
all  the  King's  men  couldn't  set  Yellow  Jock  on  his  feet 
again  unless  Daddy  Jack  gives  him  leave." 

Miles,  of  whose  boyhood  Jock  had  been  the  humble 
benefactor,  was  boiling  with  indignation.  This  door- 
step, with  the  stonecrop  growing  in  tufts  about  it,  had 
been  always  his  resort  when  he  wanted  the  goodna- 
tured  old  man  to  make  him  a  whistle,  a  bow  and  arrow, 
or  a  "pop"  whip  from  a  peeled  sapling.  Here  Dick  and 
he  had  fashioned  traps  for  Molly  Cotton-tails,  and  in 
winter  cooled  in  the  snow  the  pigtails  Jock  had  saved 
for  them  at  hog-killing,  and  allowed  them  to  roast  on 
the  embers  of  his  hearth. 

Jock  had  taught  both  boys  to  handle  their  guns,  to 
train  dogs,  to  tame  animals,  to  set  seines,  and  to  con- 
struct blinds  and  make  decoys  for  duck  shooting;  and 
in  his  care  only  had  they  been  first  allowed  to  go  with 
their  guns  in  boats  up  the  creeks  in  the  marsh.  Miles, 
of  the  two  Jock's  pet,  had  been  put  forward  by  Dick 
to  proffer  requests.  In  return  he  saved  for  Jock  a 
share  of  his  good  things  to  eat,  and  bestowed  on  him 
bits  of  silver  and  little  trinkets.     Jock's  faith  in  him  and 


96  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

belief  that  he  would  make  a  "real  fus-class"  Throck- 
morton had  induced  him  more  than  once  to  pause  be- 
fore and  turn  away  from  committing  an  unworthy 
action. 

Going  again  inside  the  cabin,  he  laid  his  hand  on  the 
negro's  clammy  forehead. 

"Come,  cheer  up,  old  man,"  he  said.  "You  aren't 
dead  yet  by  a  long  shot.  I'm  going  to  see  what  I 
can  do  for  you  by  managing  old  Daddy  Devil  on  my 
own  account." 

"Don't  go,  chile,"  moaned  the  sick  man.  "Fur 
God's  sake  don'  go.  He's  on'y  waitin'  a  chance  to 
trick  you  too.  Oh !  Marse  Miles,  one  on  us  is 
enough.  His  spite  agin  me  begun  long  ago  w'en  I 
tuk  your  part  agin  him.  Don'  go,  my  honey.  I'se  an 
old  man  an'  it's  fitten  I'se  punished  for  my  many  sins. 
Lawd,  hear  de  mo'ners!" 

At  this,  begun  anew  the  wailing  chant,  and  in  the 
hysterical  confusion  that  ensued  Miles  made  his  es- 
cape. 

"I'll  swear  I'll  get  my  grandfather  to  order  Jack 
into  the  lock-up,"  he  exclaimed,  on  reaching  the  others 
who  were  waiting  a  little  farther  on.  "It's  infamous 
to  let  him  work  such  a  game  on  poor  old  Jock." 

"Let  me  try  persuasion,  first,"  said  Dick.  "Take  ad- 
vice, Miles,  and  keep  away  from  Daddy  Jack.  You'd 
be  sure  to  excite  him  to  some  extra  foolery." 

The  girls  added  their  entreaties,  and   Miles   in  the 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  97 

end  succumbed.  Instead  of  following  them,  he  turned 
into  the  garden  path  before  Mammy  Judy's  door, 
where  he  knew  the  old  nurse  would  be  overjoyed  to 
receive  a  visit  from  her  favorite  charee. 

This  dignitary,  who,  in  virtue  of  her  former  office 
enjoyed  sundry  aristocratic  privileges,  numbered 
among  them  a  cherry  chest  of  drawers,  with  a  swing 
mirror,  a  dimity  valance  to  her  bed,  and  a  Marseilles 
quilt  instead  of  one  made  of  patchwork.  Around  her 
neat  little  dwelling  grew  scarlet  runners  trained  over 
diamond-bright  panes  of  glass;  and  sunflowers  stared 
in  at  the  windows.  The  inner  walls  were  a  curious 
mosaic  of  pictures  from  illustrated  papers  and  fashion 
magazines,  pasted  on,  one  dovetailing  into  the  other, 
as  the  boys  themselves  had  decorated  their  nursery. 
Judy  always  contrived  to  let  quality  callers  find  out. 
very  soon,  that  her  table  had  a  drop  leaf  and  her 
dishes  were  "real"  china.  Her  bric-a-brac  was  limited 
to  a  "Little  Samuel  at  Prayer,"  a  cat  and  parrot  in 
painted  plaster,  a  china  mug  "To  my  good  Girl,"  and 
a  shell  pincushion — the  last  two  brought  to  their  nurse 
by  Dick  and  Miles,  on  their  return  from  a  visit  to  the 
seaside  at  Cape  May.  She  owned  also  the  "doger- 
types"  of  the  Colonel,  Madam  Throckmorton,  and  the 
lads,  and  a  silver  watch  presented  by  her  master  after 
nursing  Miles  through  scarlet  fever. 

In  the  chimney-corner,  her  smile  of  welcome  widen- 
ing  in  billows  of  fat  till  lost  in  her  cap-frills,  sat  the 


98  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED, 

old  nurse,  and  on  a  bench  without,  smoking  a  corncob 
pipe,  was  her  ancient  husband,  Job — a  gay  buck  in  his 
youth,  who  in  his  toothless  age  was  still  regarded  by 
his  helpmeet  as  dangerous  to  the  hearts  of  the  plan- 
tation belles. 

"Well,  Uncle  Job,  how  are  you?"  said  Miles,  giving 
him  a  handshake. 

"Sarvant,  Marster;  Fse  po'ly,  tank  de  Lawd. 
Pears  like  de  roomatiz  ain'  gwine  let  me  do  much  uv 
anyting  dese  days,  cep  bambilate  and  soshiate,  an 
pass  away  de  time  wid  de  lay-dies." 

"Hear  dat,  Marse  Miles,  honey,"  beamed  his  wife. 
"An  my  ole  man  he  wonders  why  I  keeps  his  Sunday 
close  locked  up  in  de  chist." 

"She's  tellin'  de  troof,  Marse  Miles,"  said  the  patri- 
arch, displaying  his  gums  in  a  flattered  grin.  "Haint 
I  nebber  tole  you  'bout  dat  time  Judy  tuk  and  lock 
up  bofe  my  pair  o'  breeches,  en  kep  me  abed  two  days, 
case  I  scort  Ikey  Simses  widder  home  from  her  hus- 
band's hurrying?     Ahe!     Ahe!" 

His  chuckling  reminiscence  was  interrupted  by  a 
cough  that  would  have  debarred  the  antique  beau 
from  further  conversation  without  the  interference  of 
his  wife. 

"You  ole  tattletale,  shut  you  mouf,  'en  stop  you 
barkin',"  she  said  good-humoredly.  "Tell  Ma-y  Jane 
to  come  cook  her  Marse  Miles  an  ash-cake.  Reckon 
Mammy's  got  some  chinquapins  in  de  cupboard  fo*  her 


FLOWER   DE    HUNDRED.  99 

boy.  Sit  ye  down,  Miles,  baby;  en  tell  Mammy  de 
news  up  to  de  Gret  Hus." 

It  was  delightfully  like  his  old  returns  from  shoot- 
ing to  be  enthroned  in  the  best  arm-chair  with  the 
goose-down  cushions  plucked  by  her  own  hand  and 
covered  with  blue  domestic  that  smelt  of  lavender, 
while  Mary  Jane,  Judy's  youngest,  bustled  around, 
mixing  meal  and  water  in  a  tray.  This  simple  com- 
pound, enhanced  by  a  pinch  of  salt,  was  destined  to 
final  translation  into  a  dainty  renowned  in  old  planta- 
tion days.  Deftly  shaping  the  dough  into  cakes, 
Mary  Jane  ran  out  into  the  garden,  reappearing  with 
the  inner  husks  of  late-bearing  maize — cabbage  leaves 
were  as  often  used — and  wrapped  each  cake  in  a  fresh 
green  coverlid.  Next,  hot  ashes  were  raked  from 
wood  embers  upon  the  hearth,  and  the  cakes,  laid  on 
their  glowing  bed,  were  hidden  from  sight  by  the 
ashes.  By  the  time  Mary  Jane  had  arranged  to  her 
satisfaction  a  table  with  knife,  fork,  pat  of  fresh  butter, 
a  plate  displaying  the  passage  of  General  Washington 
across  the  Delaware,  and  a  glass  of  buttermilk  from 
the  morning's  churning,  an  appetizing  smell  an- 
nounced the  ash  cakes  browned  to  a  perfect  crisp. 
Try  it,  ye  who  are  doubters;  'tis  a  meal  fit  for  the 
gods!  But  alas!  with  the  Mammy  Judys  of  the 
South  the  skilful  Mary  Janes  have  vanished  into  the 
limbo  of  forgotten  things! 

Hungry   or   not,    Miles   would  not   have    failed   to 


100  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

appear  to  do  justice  to  the  simple  offering  of  Judy's 
hospitality.  It  was  an  unwritten  law  of  the  obli- 
gation of  masters  to  their  slaves,  that  visits  to  their 
cabins  should  be  conducted  with  all  observance  of 
their  right  to  dispense  the  honors. 

"And  now,  honey,"  the  old  woman  said  coaxingly, 
the  others  having  left  them  to  themselves,  "tell  me  if 
dat's  true  what  Phyllis  say  bout  Marse  Dick  and  Miss 
Bonnibel?" 

There  was  a  sudden  fall  in  Miles's  barometer. 
He  could  not  disguise  from  the  faithful  eyes  of  the  old 
nurse  the  woeful  look  that  came  upon  bis  face. 

"I  don't  think  anybody  knows,  for  certain,"  he  said 
reluctantly. 

"My  lamb!"  cried  the  fond  creature,  seizing  his 
hand  and  stroking  it.  "If  'taint  sartin,  why  don't  you 
try  too?  Wha  you  reckon  Miss  Bonnibel  gwine  to 
find  a  purtier,  conformabler  sweetheart  dan  my  pet? 
S'pose  I  aint  heerd  from  Phyllis  an  de  res  how  dem 
young  ladies  at  de  Springs  was  pullin'  caps  to  git  you 
to  dance  an'  ride  wid  'em,  dis  summer?  Why,  my 
way  o'  lookin'  at  it,  Miss  Bonnibel'll  far'ly  jump  at 
you,  and  say  thankye  in  de  bargain." 

"Mammy,  Mammy,  what  a  blithering  old  idiot  you 
are,"  said  Miles,  laughing.  "Remember  I'm  just 
beginning  life,  and  except  for  a  little  nest-egg  the 
Colonel  is  nursing  for  me,  from  the  sale  of  my  father's 
share  in  those  Jamaica  sugar  lands,  I'm  dependent  on 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  lOl 

my  grandfather  for  the  bread  I  eat  and  the  clothes  I 
wear.  A  nice  cheek  I'd  have  to  ask  a  girl  to  marry 
me." 

"Well,  en  aint  you  goin'  to  law  wid  Marse  Peyton 
Willis — aint  smart  lawyers  bound  to  git  along,  en  you 
iddicated  like  you  is?" 

"Just  at  present,  my  going  to  law  consists  in  spend- 
ing three  mornings  a  week-  in  the  corner  of  Willis's 
office,  and  I  can't  say  the  vista  opening  from  there 
offers  immediate  riches,"  Miles  said,  with  a  smile. 
*'But  you  know,  Mammy;  my  good  grandfather  is  to 
give  me  Timberneck,  and  I've  already  started  in  to 
get  the  place  in  shape." 

"Timberneck  House  was  a  gran'  place  in  its  day," 
said  Mammy.  "Heerd  tell  dat  Lawd  Co'nwallis  en 
General  Washington  used  to  set  out  on  de  roof  dar, 
smoking  deir  pipes  en  'sputin'  bout  how  to  manage  de 
Revellutionary  war.  Ole  Marse,  he  bought  it  to  fore- 
close de  mor'gage  wen  der  warnt  a  one  ob  de  family 
dat  owned  it  fus,  to  pay  de  price." 

**Well,  it's  hardly  likely  I'd  get  any  young  lady  to 
wish  to  set  up  housekeeping  in  that  old  rookery. 
Mammy.  So  rest  content  to  let  me  stay  a  bachelor. 
When  I'm  forty,  perhaps,  I'll  ask  some  plump  widow 
with  a  comfortable  income  to  join  hands  with  me — but 
till  then — ah !  well — And  you  oughtn't  to  forget  that 
my  grandfather  wants  Dick  to  marry  young — so  don't 
bother  your  head  about  me  any  more.     When   I  do 


I02  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

find  my  lady-love,  you'll  be  the  first  I'll  tell — and 
when  we're  married  you  and  Job  may  dance  a  break- 
down at  the  wedding." 

"Go  long  wid  your  sauce,  now,"  cried  the  old 
woman,  her  great  body  heaving  with  laughter. 
"Might's  well  spec  de  ephelan  out  de  succus  to  git  up 
en  dance  de  hawnpipe." 

Miles  laughed  with  her,  but  in  a  half-hearted  way. 
His  chin  dropped  into  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and  he 
sat  gazing  into  the  embers  and  striving  to  subject  his 
soul  to  the  discipline  enjoined  by  a  sense  of  right  and 
duty.  Something  of  the  boyish  spirit  of  revolt  had 
been  stirred  within  him  by  the  old  woman's  wheedling 
words.  Latterly,  more  than  once,  it  had  come  over 
him  that  Bonnibel,  under  cover  of  the  general  assump- 
tion that  she  should  pair  with  Dick,  had  allowed 
him — Miles — to  catch  glimpses  of  an  intoxicating 
preference  for  his  own  society.  The  impressions  thus 
received  were  fitful,  evanescent,  dazzling;  but  unless 
the  heart  of  man  be  as  desperately  credulous  as  it  is — 
according  to  the  Psalmist — wicked,  she  had  meant  that 
he  should  have  them.  And  the  bare  memory  of  her 
looks,  the  smile  of  her  lips,  the  confiding  touch  of  her 
hand  upon  his  arm,  woke  in  the  young  man's  breast  a 
tumult  of  emotion ! 

"Wot  de  matter  wid  you.  Miles,  honey?"  said 
Mammy  Judy,  who  was  accustomed  to  wait  upon  his 
moods,  as  a  dog  waits  at  his  master's  side  and   follows 


FLOWER   DE  HUNDRED.  103 

his  movements  with  beseeching  eyes.  *'Dey's  sum'pin 
troubHn'  you  mightily.  Lord  knows  wot  put  it  in  my 
head ;  but,  wen  you  sot  dere  lookin'  in  de  fire,  you  wos 
de  breathin*  image  uv  Marse  Philip,  fore  he  went 
away  from  home  en  got  married  to  dat  Spanish  lady 
Ole  Marse  tole  him  he  couldn't  nebber  bring  to 
Flower  de  Hunderd  as  his  wife.  Dem  was  awful 
times,  chile — ke'arnt  bear  to  think  about  'em  now — 
dere  warn'  no  real  ole  times  at  de  plantation  any 
more,  till  Marse  brought  you  and  Dick  en  put  you  in 
my  arms  to  nuss,  ....  'Here's  two  babies  for  you, 
Judy,'  sez  he,  'and  dey's  de  hope  ob  my  old  age.' 
Dick  was  a  beauty  den,  fair  as  a  lily  like  his  pa — 
Marse  Phil  took  after  his  ma  en  his  gran'ma,  pink  and 
white.  Your  pa,  now,  had  jet-black  hair  and  eyes  like 
coals — my,  but  he  was  handsome — when  he  used  to 
come  to  de  plantation  to  spend  his  holidays !  Marse 
Phil  allers  follered  arter  him,  like  Dick  did  you.  '  Yes, 
Dick's  like  his  father  dat  way,  en, no  mistake;  but  ef 
I'm  not  losin'  eye-sight,  you'd  a  look  o'  Marse  Phil  in 
you,  jes  now,  dat  wos  like  the  dead  cum  back — " 

"We've  only  to  look  around  at  the  portraits  in  the 
Great  House  and  compare  them  with  living  people," 
said  Miles,  "to  see  what  queer  resemblances  crop  out 
among  those  who  have  the  same  blood  in  their  veins. 
Sometimes  I  wish  I  were  of  the  Colonel's  own  de- 
scent, though ;  I  envy  Dick  the  right  to  stand  in  the 
dear  old  fellow's  shoes." 


I04  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED,- 

**Haint  it  never  come  over  you,  honey,  to  wonder 
what  would  ha'  happened  ef  Dick  hadn't  a  wofn  dat 
Httle  gold  locket  round  his  neck  dat  had  Marse  Phil's 
picture  in  it,  when  Marster  found  de  babies  in  de 
boat?" 

"Mammy,  you  are  a  regular  penny-dreadful!"  said 
the  young  man  impatiently. 

"No,  but,  honey,  shua's  you  live,  Gustus  tole  me  dat 
war  de  on'y  sign  ole  Marse  had  o'  wliich  was  wJiichr 

"Nonsense,  old  woman.  I  suppose  Gus  was  drawing 
on  his  not  over-brilliant  imagination  to  make  capital 
of  his  adventures.  I  often  wonder  what  persuaded 
that  fellow  to  leave  the  plantation.  He  is  just  the 
one  I'd  like  to  interview  to  get  the  testimony  of  an 
eye-witness  as  to  our  first  appearance  in  American 
society." 

"Don't  you  ask  no  questions,  chile,"  said  the  nurse, 
looking  around  her  nervously.  "When  Gustus  run 
away  we  all  got  ole  Marse's  orders  to  keep  our  mouths 
shet  'bout  him ;  and  Lawd  knows  Daddy  Jack's 
skeered  everybody  on  de  place  to  hole  dere  tongues. 
Gustus  warnt  three  months  back  from  his  journey  wid 
de  Kunnel  to  git  you  and  Dick  fore  he  turned  up 
missin' ;  he  was  a  roamin'  kind  o'  nigger  any  ways,  an' 
wid  Daddy  Jack  behind  him  dere  warnt  many  folks  to 
blame  de  boy  for  scootin'.  But  it  hurt  Old  Marse 
powerful,  seein'  he'd  had  Gustus  for  his  own  body-sar- 
vant  since  de  feller  was  eighteen — ke'arnt  think  whar 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  105 

Gus  tuk  the  sperrit  to  run  away.  He  war  allers  peace- 
able enough,  and  ez  spruce  and  peart  ez  a  jay  bird,  wen 
all  at  once,  befo'  he  left,  he  tuk  to  mopin',  an'  look'd 
like  he'd  seed  a  ghost.  Dar  now,  dar's  de  udder  chil- 
lun  comin'  back  dis  way.  Mine  wat  I  tell  you,  sugah- 
sweet,  de  beautiful  young  lady's  lookin  out  {o'  yon.  I 
warnt  baun  yistidday,  en  I  sees  it  in  de  shinin'  ob  her 
eyes.'' 

The  blood  streamed  into  Miles's  cheek,  and  his  own 
eyes  kindled. 

** Miles!  Miles!"  came  in  a  merry  chorus.  "Vic- 
tory has  perched  upon  our  banners." 

"It's  all  right !"  said  Dick,  when  he  went  out  to 
them;  "I've  left  a  powder  with  Jock's  wife  that  Daddy 
says  will  cure  the  sick  man  right  away!  I'm  half 
ashamed  of  the  share  we  had  in  it,  but  the  end  justi- 
fies the  means.  We'll  have  to  keep  it  from  my  grand- 
father. He  despises  this  Voudoo  business,  root  and 
branch.  It's  as  if  we'd  compounded  a  felony,  but 
what  was  I  to  do?" 

"How  in  the  name  of  wonder  did  you  manage  the 
old  fraud,"  asked  Miles,  unfeignedly  relieved  at  the 
prospect  of  Yellow  Jock's  release  from  thraldom. 

"It  was  the  basest  bribery  and  corruption,"  said 
Bonnibel.  "Dick  promised  him  a  hog  and  a  jug  of 
whisky.  Nutty  a  pair  of  mittens  of  her  own  knitting, 
and  I  sacrificed  upon  the  spot  the  little  gold  trinket  I 
had  dangling  to    my   bracelet.      Ugh  I    it's  the  most 


to6  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.     ' 

gruesome  place — I  shall  dream  of  it,  to-night.  He  has 
a  sweet  pet  rattlesnake  in  a  basket  on  the  hearth." 

"That  trinket  put  Daddy  Jack  into  the  nearest  ap- 
proach to  good  humor  I  ever  saw  him  in,"  said  Dick. 
"But  I  was  disgusted  to  have  Bonnibel  give  a  thing 
she  had  worn  to  such  a  creature.  I  tried  to  save  it 
but  in  vain.  The  fellow  was  evidently  flattered  by  our 
appeal  to  his  occult  powers,  though  I  warned  him 
plainly  that  the  next  attempt  at  such  hocus-pocus  on 
his  part  will  see  him  in  the  lock-up." 

"I  hope  his  Master  will  fly  away  with  him,  before 
that  time  comes,"  answered  Miles  piously.  "They 
have  been  kept  too  long  asunder." 

Betimes,  next  day,  the  rosy  fingers  of  the  dawn 
plucked  intending  huntsmen  out  of  bed.  "Mint  julep, 
sah?  Hot  water,  sah?  Breakfas'  in  half  an  hour,  sah! 
Fine  mornin'  fo'  de  scent,  sah !  Light  anudder  can- 
dle, sah?"  Such  were  the  sounds  to  greet  the  awaken- 
ing ear  in  the  men's  portion  of  the  house.  The  long 
corridor  dividing  their  rooms  was  filled  with  negro 
boys,  tripping  each  other  up  in  their  haste  to  carry 
buckets  of  spring  water,  morning  drams,  and  newly 
brushed  shoes  and  clothes.  Outside  might  be  heard 
the  gathering  of  horses,  the  sounding  of  horns,  the 
whimper  of  impatient  hounds.  In  the  dining-room 
the  table  was  spread  with  substantials  for  a  regiment. 
Bonnibel,  in  her  habit,  poured  out*  coffee  behind  the 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  107 

tall  silver  urn,  Ursula  serving  the  less  favored  bever- 
age of  tea.  Neighboring  squires,  in  hunting  garb,  suc- 
ceeded each  other  at  table  amid  the  jocund  clatter  of 
knives,  forks,  plates,  and  voices  only  to  be  heard  on 
such  occasions. 

The  sun  was  rising  as  the  cavalcade  finally  set  off 
down  the  long  avenue,  to  the  noisy  delight  of  the 
pack,  whose  yelps  precluded  conversation  among  the 
riders.  Yellow  Jock,  sitting  upon  his  hunter  like  a 
Centaur  done  in  bronze,  demure,  dignified,  and  master 
of  the  hour,  was  followed  at  a  respectful  distance  by  a 
motley  gang  of  negroes,  some  on  foot,  some  mounted 
on  raw-boned  plow  horses  taken  from  the  pasture — one 
venerable  darkey  in  a  beaver  hat  bestriding  a  mule  and 
urging  him  on  with  the  aid  of  a  pair  of  huge  cavalry 
spurs  used  in  our  war  with  Mexico.  The  tail  of  the 
procession  was  brought  up  by  juveniles,  shaded  from 
cream  color  to  ebony,  dressed  in  shreds  and  patches  of 
finery, 

"  Wee  folk,  odd  folk,  trooping  all  together. 
Green  jacket,  red  cap,  and  white  owl's  feather." 

This  contingent  was  cheerfully  determined  to  keep 
up  as  long  as  their  legs  would  carry  them.  One  little 
girl  "toted"  a  baby,  which  she  clearly  longed  to  drop 
but  dared  not,  and  another  was  equipped  against  the 
ardor  of  the  rising  sun  with  a  faded  parasol,  once  rose- 
color. 

Dick  rode  with  Bonnibel,  Miles  with  Helen  Willis, 


Io8  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

whose  fine  features  wore  a  look  of  serenity  till  now 
long  a  stranger  to  her  friends.  At  starting,  she  had 
managed  to  bestow  upon  the  Colonel  a  whispered 
expression  of  thanks  that  welled  up  from  a  heart  full 
of  gratitude,  for  he  had  forbidden  her  to  speak  openly 
of  the  transaction  by  which  Helen's  old  nurse  and  her 
son  had  become  his  property,  while  remaining  with 
their  former  owners  who  were  to  pay  wages  for  their 
use. 

Ursula  kept,  by  the  Colonel's  orders,  close  to  his 
bridle  till  he  could  satisfy  himself  as  to  her  ability  to 
manage  the  plunging  gray  she  had  begged  hard  to  be 
allowed  to  mount. 

"He  goes  bcatitiftdly,  Cousin  Richard,"  she  an- 
nounced, when,  after  a  series  of  jumps,  her  horse  set- 
tled down  to  a  more  manageable  gait.  "That  was 
only  his  play,  you  know;  we  understand  each  other 
perfectly.  But"  (confidentially)  *T'm  just  a  wee  bit 
afraid  I'm  not  quite  big  enough  for  Selim.  How  do  I 
look  on  him?" 

"Very  much  like  a  mosquito,  my  dear,"  said  the 
Colonel  dryly.  "Now,  Nutty,  I  depend  on  you  to  play 
no  pranks  and  to  keep  Selim  Avell  in  hand."  And 
Nutty  knew  that  she  must  obey. 

They  had  come  out  of  the  woods  into  an  open 
country,  scattered  with  brier-patches,  fallen  trees,  and 
guUeys  of  varying  width,  where  the  marauder  of  the 
duck  pond  had   been  tracked   to    cover.     The   dogs, 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  I09 

thrown  off,  enraptured,  nosed  their  way  along  the  sus- 
pected places,  while  the  horses,  held  in  check,  chafed 
madly,  covering  themselves  with  foam.  There  was  a 
long,  nervous  half-hour,  every  eye  following  the  move- 
ments of  the  pack  with  strained  attention ;  and  then 
arose  a  mellow,  doubtful  note.  ''That's  Flirt !  That's 
my  beauty!"  cried  the  exulting  Colonel;  "no  bab- 
bling when  she  gives  tongue." 

Another  stronger  cry  from  Flirt  was  swelled  by  the 
answer  of  the  pack,  and  then  a  loud  halloo  from  Yel- 
low Jock  as  he  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  took  the 
lead.  The  fox  is  unkenneled,  running  in  full  view 
across  the  field,  the  hounds  after  her,  keeping  close 
together — the  Colonel's  boast  was  like  Washington's, 
"You  might  cover  them  with  a  blanket  as  they  run" — 
and  then  the  whippers-in. 

With  glad  halloos  and  ringing  horn-blasts,  horses 
and  riders  thrilling  in  accord,  the  hunters  follow,  and 
the  chase  is  under  way ! 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  detail  the  fortunes  of  the 
day — enough  to  say  that  Mrs.  Reynard  provided  her 
pursuers  with  a  run  long  remembered  and  thoroughly 
exciting.  Ursula's  gray  carried  her  "like  a  streak,  ' 
said  Miles  approvingly.  She,  the  Colonel,  Peyton 
Willis,  Miles,  Parson  Crabtree,  and  Yellow  Jock,  were 
in  time  to  see  Argus,  the  ancient  of  the  pack,  divide 
with  his  youngest  grandchild.  Flirt,  the  honors  of 
attack.     And  then  Nutty,  who  had   ridden  gallantly, 


110  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

wanted  to  burst  into  tears  over  the  cruel  fate  of  the 
poor  dear  little  fox!  But  she  accepted  the  brush, 
nevertheless,  and  the  Colonel  took  the  pads;  and  if,  in 
after  years,  other  pleasures  of  this  world  came  into  her 
grasp,  Ursula  could  truly  say  there  had  been  in  her 
life  few  enjoyments  more  keen  than  that  October  ride 
after  the  Flower  de  Hundred  hounds! 

In  response  to  the  coaxing  of  the  girls,  the  Colonel 
had  ordered  luncheon  to  be  sent  to  meet  the  home 
party  in  a  glen  at  some  distance  from  the  house.  The 
day,  now  warmed  to  the  core  by  sunshine,,  was  delight- 
ful, and  they  gathered  with  renewed  spirits  around  a 
cloth  laid  under  a  spreading  oak-tree  on  a  carpet  of 
moss  and  russet  leaves.  Bonnibel,  swinging  in  the 
festoon  of  a  vine,  her  cheeks  blooming  from  the  ride, 
purple  clusters  of  grapes  dropping  upon  her  auburn 
locks,  was  like  a  wild-wood  bacchante  of  the  golden 
age.  Dick,  to  whose  lot  it  fell  to  carve  a  round  of 
"hunter's  beef,"  cured  after  a  recipe  kept  secret  in  the 
family,  and  Parson  Crabtree,  who  dispensed  a  par- 
tridge pasty,  had  no  time  for  dalliance  by  the  way. 
The  Colonel,  uncorking  some  bottles  of  Bordeaux,  and 
Ursula  dipping  water  from  a  crystal  spring,  \Yere  also 
fully  occupied.  The  rest  had  scattered  in  groups 
about  the  mossy  amphitheatre.  Miles,  only,  was  recre- 
ant to  the  service  of  hospitality.  Nutty  thought  he 
had  forgotten  his  manners,  standing  with  his  back  to 
the  company  steadying  the  grape-vine  swing  with  one 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  ill 

hand,  with  the  other  holding  her  plate  or  glass  for 
Bonnibel,  gazing  into  the  girl's  face,  speaking  ardent 
hurried  words  into  her  ear!  With  her  usual  belief 
that  it  was  her  mission  to  keep  rein  on  everybody's 
affairs,  the  little  girl  had  called  Miles  and  whispered  a 
suggestion  that  he  should  hand  the  potted  tongue  to 
Mrs.  Willis. 

"Oh,  she  has  Dick  and  the  Colonel,"  said  Miles, 
tossing  the  lock  off  his  forehead  impatiently.  "When 
you  are  grown  up,  little  girl,  you'll  know  what  it 
means  to  let  well  enough  alone." 

Nutty 's  heart  swelled  with  resentment  at  this  cruel 
stab.  She  had  been  fancying  herself  three  inches 
taller  and  quite  one  of  the  elders  since  her  achieve- 
ment in  the  hunt.  She  did  not  recover  her  equa- 
nimity until  somebody  produced  Bonnibel's  guitar, 
surreptitiously  ordered  to  be  sent  from  home 
with  the  luncheon,  and  Bonnibel,  descending  from 
her  sylvan  throne,  sat  on  the  gnarled  root  of  a 
great  oak,  and  threw  the  blue  ribbon  around  her 
shoulders. 

Yes !  those  were  the  days  when  the  twang  of  the 
light  guitar  had  not  ceased  to  echo  in  our  homes,  to 
make  place  for  the  more  "fetching"  banjo.  The  Colo- 
nel dearly  loved  Bonnibel's  songs,  sung  in  a  low,  clear 
mezzo  voice,  admirably  enunciated,  and  reflecting  her 
humor  of  the  hour.  To-day,  his  first  call  was  for 
"Allan   Percy" ;  and  the  girl,  fixing  her   eyes   on  the 


il2  FLOWER  BE  HUAWRED. 

greenwood  depths,  chanted — for  it  is  hardly  more  than 

a  monotone — the  plaintive  ballad: 

"  It  was  a  beauteous  lady,  richly  dressed ; 

Around  her  neck  were  chains  of  jewels  rare  ; 
A  velvet  mantle  shrouds  her  snowy  breast, 

And  a  young  child  was  sweetly  slumbering  there. 

Lullaby  ! 

"Lullaby,  Lullaby,"  sang  Bonnibel;  and  when  she 
finished  there  was  a  flattering  call  for  a  contribution 
from  Ursula.  Nutty,  with  much  spirit,  plunged  into 
the  stanzas  that  run  as  follows: 

"  Lord  Lovell  he  stood  at  his  castle  gate 

A-combing  his  milk-white  steed, 

On  a  balcony  high  stood  Nancy  Bell, 

A-wishing  her  lover  good  speed,  speed,  speed, 
A-wishing  her  lover  good  speed. 

Oh  !  where  are  you  going,  Lord  Lovell,  she  said. 

Oh  !  where  are  you  going,  said  she  ; 
I'm  going,  my  fair  Lady  Nancy  Bell, 

Far  countries  for  to  see,  see,  see, 

Far  countries  for  to  see. 

He  had  not  been  gone  but  a  year  and  a  day 

Or  at  most  but  two  or  three. 
When  languishing  thoughts  popped  into  his  head, 

Lady  Nancy  Bell  for  to  see,  etc. 

He  rode  and  he  rode,  as  fast  as  he  could, 

Till  he  came  to  London  town. 
And  there  he  saw  a  funeral 

With  the  mourners  all  weeping  around,  etc. 

Oh  !   who  is  it  dead,  good  people,  he  said. 

Oh  !  who  is  it  dead,  said  he  ;     • 
'Tis  the  Lord's  only  daughter,  the  people  replied, 

And  they  called  her  the  Lady  Nancy,  etc. 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  113 

He  ordered  the  coffin  to  be  opened  straight, 

And  the  shroud  to  be  pulled  down, 
And  there  he  kissed  the  clay-cold  corpse. 

While  the  tears  they  came  trickling  down,  etc. 

Lady  Nancy  she  died  on  that  self-same  eve ; 

Lord  Lovell  he  died  ^on  the  morrow  ; 
Lady  Nancy  she  died  of  pure,  pure  grief. 

Lord  Lovell  he  died  of  sorrow — ror-rorrow. 

Lord  Lovell  he  died  of  sorrow. 

Lady  Nancy  was  buried  in  St.  Martin's  Kirk, 

Lord  Lovell  was  laid  in  the  choir. 
And  out  of  her  breast  there  grew  a  red  rose, 

And  out  of  her  lover's  a  brier,  etc. 

That  grew,  and  that  grew,  till  they  reached  the  church  top. 

Till  they  couldn't  grow  any  higher ; 
And  there  they  intwined  in  a  true  lover's  knot. 

All  true  lovers  for  to  admire — ire,  rire. 

All  true  lovers  for  to  admire." 

Bonnibel  struck  a  chord  in  accompaniment  now  and 
again.  And  Ursula's  soul,  aflight  on  the  pinions  of 
song  and  imaginary  woe,  was  all  unconscious  of  the 
impression  she  produced ! 

They  revived  glees  and  catches:  "White  Sand  and 
Grey  Sand,"  "Frere  Jacques,"  "Scotland's  Burning," 
and  "A  Southerly  Wind  and  a  Cloudy  Sky"— the 
forest  echoing  to  the  blithe  chorus : 

"  To  horse,  my  brave  boys,  and  away, 
Bright  Phoebus  the  hills  is  adorning, 
The  face  of  all  nature  looks  gay, 

'Tis  a  beautiful  scent-laying  morning. 
Hark  !  hark  !  forward  ! 
Tirrila!    Tirrila  !     Tirrila  !  " 


114  FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED. 

''That's  after  time,"  said  Miles,  as  all  broke  down 
simultaneously  in  a  laugh;  "but  it's  pure  poetic  license 
to  talk  of  people  wanting  to  carol  when  they're 
routed  early  out  of  bed." 

Bell  and  he  wandered  away  from  the  rest,  and  pres- 
ently found  themselves  again  at  the  tempting  grape- 
vine swing. 

"Let  me  mount  you,"  he  said.  Bell  put  her  foot 
upon  his  palm,  and  lightly  swung  into  place. 

"There,  nothing  could  be  more  comfortable,"  she 
exclaimed.  "Oh,  how  I  love  the  woods!  How  I 
wish  this^day  might  never  end." 

"That's  all  very  well.  But  when  I  remember  you 
flying  around  the  ball-room  at  the  White  Sulphur  in 
all  your  fineries!" 

"And  where,  pray,  were  you,"  replied  the  girl.  "So 
much  in  demand  that  I  used  to  call  you  the  agreeable 
Rattle  of  the  Ladies  Club!" 

"A  man  can't  go  moping  and  mooning  because  the 
one  he  wants  has  other  strings  to  her  bow.  But  I 
was  glad  enough  to  leave  the  place.  A  week  of  that 
philandering  around  women's  footstools  will  last  me 
the  remainder  of  my  days." 

"This  is  not  philandering — and  I've  no  footstool, 
par  exemple .?"  said  Bell  mischievously. 

"Whatever  it  is,  Lve  no  desire  to  change.  No,  I  am 
not  a  ladies'  man.  Actually,  I  never  wTote  a  line  of 
poetry — stop,  though,  I'm  forgetting— I  did  once — last 


FLOWER   DE  HUNDRED.  1 15 

fourteenth  of  February  at  the  University — and  I've 
not  lisped  in  numbers  since." 

"A  valentine!  To  some  belle  of  Charlottesville? 
One  of  those  charming  Miss  Mollies  or  Miss  Betties,  I 
suppose,"  said  Bell,  bridling.  "Why  have  we  never 
heard  of  her?  No  doubt,  the  poor  thing  is  crying  her 
eyes  out  for  another — '* 

"The  girl  for  whom  I  wrote  it  never  cries,"  said 
Miles,  lowering  his  voice.  "She's  like  airy  Lilian,  who 
clasps  her  tiny  hands  above  her,  laughing  all  she  can. 
That's  the  reason  I  smothered  my  poor  little  first  at- 
tempt at  verse  and  resisted  the  temptation  to  publish 
it  in  the  University  Magazine." 

"Dear  me !  I  believe  he  has  it  in  his  pocket  all  this 
time!     I'm  sure  that  oblivion  was  assumed." 

"I  own  up.  It's  here  in  my  pocket-book,  close  to 
my  heart.     A  cold  comfort  but  the  best  I  had." 

"Let  me  see.  Let  me  see.!"  begged  she,  eagerly. 
"If  this  were  Ardennes  you  might  have  hung  it  on  a 
tree." 

"If  you  were  Rosalind,  who  cared  to  read  it  for 
the  writer's  sake." 

"Come,  come,"  she  said  imperiously;  and  with  some 
reluctance,  he  took  from  an  inside  pocket  a  paper  thus 
inscribed  : 

HER   VALENTINE. 

This  merry  maiden,  radiant,  rare, 
With  winsome  ways  and  debonair, 
When  sweet  she  smiles  on  me,  I  swear 


Il6  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

That  Eden's  light  is  resting  there 
Upon  those  lips  so  ripe,  so  fair  ! 

One  look  at  her,  and  e'en  Old  Care 
Would  cease  to  carp  and  court  Despair, 
Would  put  off  dole,  his  trade  forswear, 
Don  sunny  looks,  make  Joy  his  heir. 

What  wonder,  then,  that  I  should  wear 
Her  colors  and  to  love  her  dare — 
Her  Valentine  myself  declare  ? 
This  merry  maiden,  radiant,  rare  ! 

"Shall  I  tell  you  what  I  think  of  it?"  said  Bell,  after 
reading  the  verses,  and  keeping  close  hold  of  the 
paper. 

"Frankly — critically  ?" 

"Frankly;  I  can't  criticise.  But  I  shall  never  give 
this  up." 

"You'll  accept  my  tribute?"  he  asked  boyishly. 
"When  you  know  you're  the  only  girl  in  the  world 
who  could  have  inspired  me !" 

Bonnibel's  color  framed  into  her  face.  "I'll  make  no 
rash  promises,"  she  said,  tucking,  nevertheless,  the 
folded  paper  safely  within  her  bodice.  "If  by  next 
Valentine's  day,  you  have  not  changed  your  mind — 
perhaps — " 

"Don't  be  so  begrudging,"  he  urged,  pressing  nearer 
to  her.  "Treat  yourself  to  the  luxury  of  royal 
giving—" 

He  had  forgotten  all  but  her  beauty,  her  half- 
inviting,   half-repelling  manner    to  him,   that  had  be- 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  I17 

come  a  draught  he  needs  must  drink.  They  were  a 
fair  sight  to  look  upon,  those  two,  in  the  amber  glory 
of  the  autumn  sun  sifting  through  quivering  leaves — 
she,  slender  but  rounded  to  maidenly  maturity,  her 
head  blooming  like  an  exquisite  rose  upon  its  stalk — 
he,  brown  and  comely,  bending  his  great  shoulders 
down  to  whisper  in  her  ear ! 

Long  ago  forsaken  by  the  others,  they  had  not 
observed  that  the  vehicles  sent  to  fetch  the  party 
home — their  good  steeds  being  long  since  comfortably 
stabled — were  already  filled  with  laughing,  beckoning 
folk— their  two  places,  only,  vacant. 

Dick,  sent  by  his  grandfather  to  "hurry  Miles  and 
Bell,"  came  upon  the  recreant  ones,  who  had  been  half 
screened  from  sight  by  a  tangle  of  wild  bamboo  and 
grape  leaves.  He  stopped  short,  reddened  in  spite  of 
himself,  and  then,  avoiding  the  eye  of  Miles,  addressed 
himself  to  Bonnibel : 

"I  was  to  say  they're  waiting  for  you,"  he  said,  in  a 
voice  sounding  strangely  unlike  that  of  cordial,  out- 
spoken Dick. 

Bell,  startled  more  than  she  cared  to  show,  slipped 
down  from  her  swinging  seat,  and  ran  fleetly  across 
the  crisp  carpet  of  the  woods,  clearing  with  a  bound 
the  little  stream  that  divided  them  from  the  forest 
road  where  the  carriages  were  in  waiting.  Miles,  in 
the  first  rush  of  animal  instinct  to  defend  possession  of 
a  prize,  turned  upon  Dick  with  an  angry  snarl. 


Il8  FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED. 

"Because  you  are  the  lord  of  the  manor,  and  I'm  a 
beggar,  you've  the  right  to  call  me  to  account,  you 
think?"  he  muttered,  a  whir,  as  of  wheels,  within  his 
brain. 

Many  a  time  had  Dick  faced  and  quelled  his  uncon- 
trollable bursts  of  passion.  But  there  was  now  a  men- 
ace in  Miles'  eyes  that  was  a  revelation.  It  made 
Dick  turn  sick  at  heart  and  banished  the  rancor  from 
him.  Breathing  more  quickly,  but  with  outward 
calm,  he  said : 

"It  must  be  an  awful  power  inside  of  him  that 
drives  a  man  to  words  like  those.  Don't  answer  me, 
now,  please.  This  isn't  the  time  or  place.  There'll 
be  chances  enough,  when  you're  ready,  to  pay  me 
what  you  owe." 

That  night,  when  Miles  was  walking  alone  on  the 
gravel  of  the  driveway,  looking  up  at  the  twinkling 
planets  that  gemmed  the  stainless  sky,  Dick  came 
out  to  join  him,  hesitating  for  a  moment  before  he 
slipped  his  hand  within  Miles's  arm.  In  a  moment 
Miles  had  his  big  arm  around  Dick's  shoulder,  instead, 
gripping  him  fiercely,  and  crying  out  in  love  and  peni- 
tence: 

"Do  you  know  what  I've  been  thinking  of,  this  last 
hour?  Not  of  her,  but  of  you — of  your  fidelity  to  me, 
of  our  lives  together,  of  what  you  have  been  to  me — 
and  I  shuddered  at  the  gulf  we  stood  upon  to-day." 

"Nothing  can  part  us,"  Dick  said,  greatly  moved. 


FLOWER   BE   HUNDRED,  1 19 

"No,  nothing.  Whatever  else  I  gained,  I  should 
always  be  wanting  you.  And  if  I  seemed  to  forget 
you,  it  was  only  because  I  was  dazzled  a  moment 
when  the  sun  shone  in  my  eyes.  Another  time,  I 
shall  turn  my  eyes  away." 

"You're  making  me  a  selfish  sort  of  brute,  I  think," 
Dick  said,  his  voice  trembling  a  little.  "When  I've 
no  more  right  than  you — " 

"That,  we  had  better  not  discuss.  Out  here,  alone 
with  my  cigar,  I've  come  to  a  good  many  conclusions. 
And  one  of  them  is  to  ask  you  not  to  talk  to  me  of 
this  matter  again  but  to  trust  me.  Promise,  Dick, 
promise.  It  is  my  only  hope  of  recovering  my  self- 
respect." 

"Miles — old  man  !"  Dick  said,  edging  again  closer  to 
him  in  fraternal  amity.  In  this  way,  as  regards  the 
ending,  had  most  of  their  differences  been  adjusted. 
Dick  did  not  know  how  this  time  the  iron  had  entered 
into  his  cousin's  soul. 

Poor  Miles,  who  persisted  in  equipping  Bonnibel 
with  the  sandals  and  cestus  of  a  goddess,  would  have 
resented  the  suggestion  that  she  was  in  reality  a 
woman  of  ordinary,  if  fascinating,  clay.  Susceptible 
to  kindness,  of  a  happy,  even  temper,  inclined  to  take 
sunny  paths  rather  than  shady  ones,  to  shed  tears 
easily  kissed  away,  to  make  herself  companionable  and 
soothing  to  whomsoever  she  might  chance  to  be  with, 
to  coax,  to  cheer,  to  charm — that  was  Bell's  nature — 


I20  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

infinitely  the  best  outfit  for  this  work-a-day  world  as 
women  have  to  meet  it.  After  the  episode  narrated, 
when  Miles  kept  his  distance  from  her  and  Dick 
drifted  into  more  intimate  devotion,  she  maintained 
her  balance  in  an  admirable  way.  Cousin  Polly,  who 
had  feared  dear  Miles  had  been  falling  in  love  with 
Bonnibel,  and  who  held  the  Virginia  doctrine  that  all 
girls  are  flirts  until  they  marry,  extolled  her  to  Grand- 
mamma; and  Grandmamma,  with  a  heavenly  smile, 
hoped  dear  Dick  would  get  a  girl  worthy  of  him,  who- 
ever it  might  be.  The  Colonel,  pleasing  himself  with 
romance-weaving  in  his  study,  as  a  bird  constructs 
her  nest  bit  by  bit, — brought  every  straw  he  could  col- 
lect to  aid  in  his  pleasant  task.  The  presence  in  the 
house  of  this  brilliant  apparition  of  young  woman- 
hood made  him  as  gallant  as  a  younker,  he  declared. 
Bonnibel's  entry  at  breakfast  time,  dewy  from  sleep 
and  bath,  in  crisp  attire,  gracious  and  courteous  to  all, 
the  good-morning  kiss  her  soft  lips  dropped  upon  his 
withered  cheek,  made  him  wonder  how  the  old  home 
had  done  so  long  without  a  fair  young  mistress.  If 
Dick  had  pluck,  by  Jove,  he'd  never  let  any  other 
fellow  woo  Bonnibel  away  from  Flower  de  Hundred. 
But  withal,  the  old  gentleman  kept  himself  religiously 
in  check,  since,  to  his  notions  of  chivalry,  'twould 
never  do  to  let  the  young  lady  see  they  had  designs 
upon  her  liberty. 

Autumn  waned,  and  frost  had  touched  the  coy  per- 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  121 

Simmons,  hoarding  their  sugar  until  other  fruits  were 
picked,  and  hanging  in  pinkish  red  globes  upon 
branches  watched  by  faithful  worshipers.  It  was  a 
great  moment  on  the  plantation  when  the  first  rime 
had  fallen  upon  the  grass,  and  persimmon  gatherers 
might  journey  in  open  day  to  visit  the  trees  nocturn- 
ally  haunted  by  little  and  big  negroes,  awaiting  their 
chance  to  rifle  these  delights.  Corn  shucking  was 
over,  the  harvests  stored  within  well-filled  barns,  chin- 
quapins and  chestnuts  were  gathered,  when  to  Ursula's 
active  spirit  occurred  the  fancy  to  organize  a  possum- 
hunt  by  torch-light  in  the  woods.  "The  boys,"  sated 
by  days  of  successful  shooting  in  the  stubble,  forests, 
and  marshes,  consented  to  the  primitive  entertain- 
ment, the  Colonel  was  kissed  into  giving  his  sanction, 
and  it  remained  for  Grandmamma  and  Cousin  Polly, 
both  of  whom  had  been  suborned  by  the  governess  to 
express  disapproval  of  a  pursuit  so  little  becoming  a 
young  lady,  to  be  won  over  to  say — Yes. 

''You'd  jes  better  let  Miss  Nutty  go  de  pace,  Ole 
Miss,"  advised  Phyllis,  the  ladies'  maid.  "She's  a 
tomboy  baun,  fo'  shua;  but  dem's  de  kind  dat  mos'  in 
general  settles  down  all  over  when  dey  gits  married  an 
has  chilluns  of  dey  own." 

Grandmamma,  with  Cousin  Polly  as  her  lieutenant, 
was  undergoing  the  daily  ceremony  of  giving  audience 
to  the  slaves,  when  Ursula,  her  arm  linked  in  Bonni- 
bel's,  came  into  the  "charmber."    This  apartment  was  a 


122  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

large  bright  room  on  the  ground  floor,  with  mahogany 
wardrobes,  a  four-poster  standing  on  a  dais  requiring 
carpeted  steps  to  mount  up  to  it,  a  deep  chintz  easy- 
chair  Hke  a  cave,  in  which  Grandmamma  sat,  and  a  fire 
of  light-wood  knots  spluttering  on  the  hearth.  In  the 
recessed  window  seats,  maids  were  at  work  making  the 
garments  Cousin  Polly  had  cut  out.  On  stools  near 
the  fire  were  perched  three  or  four  unwilling  aco- 
lytes learning  to  sew,  one  of  them  inclined  to  fall 
asleep  off  her  cricket  into  the  ashes,  from  which  she 
was  reclaimed  and  thumped  on  the  head  by  the  brisk 
hand  of  Phyllis,  wearing  a  brass  thimble  warranted 
to  do   execution  of  the  most  awakening  character. 

Nutty's  request  was  kept  in  abeyance  by  an  inter- 
view in  progress  between  the  authorities  and  Poll 
(Paul)  Todd,  the  blacksmith,  and  his  wife.  Paul  was  a 
foolish-faced  giant  with  a  small  head,  and  low  brow 
shelving  backward  under  a  dense  mat  of  wool.  The 
girls  remembered  him  as  the  hero  of  a  "baptisin'  "  they 
had  attended  during  the  summer  at  a  pretty  pond  in 
the  woods.  Brother  Jones,  the  preacher  of  the  occa- 
sion, stood  waist-deep  in  the  water,  adjuring,  exhort- 
ing, encouraging  the  converts,  who  one  by  one  waded 
in,  were  seized,  submerged,  and  sent  ashore  amid  the 
ringing  echoes  of  a  hymn  of  piercing  sweetness  from 
the  congregation  gathered  on  the  bank.  Poll,  the  last 
to  present  himself,  stood  staring  before  him  with  di- 
lated eyes. 


FLOWER  DE  HUhWRED.  123 

"Come  on!"  roared  out  Brer' Jones.  "Don't  stan* 
dere  tremblin'  on  de  brink  o'  blessedness.  Come  on, 
poor  sinner,  wot's  yer  feard  uv?" 

"I'se  afeerd  o'  dat  air  pesky  little  mocassin  on  de 
rock  behin'  you,"  stammered  Poll;  and  with  a  yell,  a 
shudder,  and  a  bound,  the  preacher  gathered  his  flap- 
ping robes  about  him  and  splashed  ashore. 

Poll  had  recently  married  a  termagant,  Louisa,  under 
circumstances  of  novel  interest.  Louisa  had  waited 
to  secure  a  new  black  "alapaky"  gown,  and  a  black 
bonnet  and  crape  veil,  before  having  the  "funeral" 
(i.e.  a  sermon  to  the  memory  of  her  former  lord) 
preached  by  Brother  Jones,  whose  oratory  on  these 
occasions  was  esteemed  by  the  quarter  to  be  of  an 
agreeably  "rousin'  "  quality.  About  a  month  after  his 
actual  interment,  therefore,  the  friends  of  Louisa's  hus- 
band, with  the  disconsolate  widow,  resorted  to  meet- 
ing one  Sunday,  and  there  indulged  in  a  full  measure 
of  groaning,  shouting,  and  tears,  during  the  progress  of 
Brer'  Jones'  eulogy  of  the  departed  saint.  Hardly  had 
the  sermon  concluded,  and  the  audience  straightened 
itself  up,  when  Brer*  Jones  advanced  to  the  front  and 
requested  the  parties  contracting  "matteramony"  to 
please  step  forward.  The  widow  was  the  first  to  rise. 
Throwing  back  her  crape  veil,  she  looked  about  her 
with  a  commanding  air,  and,  soon  perceiving  the  object 
of  her  search,  signed  to  him  to  come  forth.  Poll, 
emerging  supremely  sheepish  from  the  crowd,  shambled 


124  FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED. 

Up  the  aisle,  and  Louisa,  a  waspish  Httle  woman  reach- 
ing just  above  his  elbow,  fastened  upon  his  arm — nor 
released  it  till  the  couple  were  made  one.  No  expla- 
nation was  given  of  this  telescoping  of  religious  rites, 
but  the  announcement  by  the  bride  that  she  "giv 
Brer'  Jones  a  shote  to  preach  Sam's  funeral,  and  he 
dun  the  weddin'too  for  a  bushel  o'  sweet  potatoes." 

Poll  took  Louisa  back  to  his  cabin,  and  with  her  a 
comfortable  array  of  worldly  goods  and  live  stock. 
But  she  kept  him  in  perpetual  hot  water.  Their  spats 
were  the  life  of  the  chj'Guiques  scandaleiises  of  Flower 
de  Hundred.  In  vain  Mr.  Sampson,  Cousin  Polly, 
Grandmamma,  and  finally  the  Colonel,  interfered. 
Louisa  continued  to  treat  Poll  outrageously.  Her 
last  exploit,  now  under  discussion,  appeared  to  have 
reached  the  culminating  point. 

"Louisa,  I  insist  that  you  let  Paul  tell  his  story," 
said  the  little  Madam,  from  her  throne;  and  Poll,  blub- 
bering at  intervals,  and  displaying  a  deep  hollow  ap- 
parently burnt  into  the  wool  upon  his  crown,  began : 

'T  war  des  havin'  a  mug  o'  simmon  beer.  Miss,  wot  I 
made  myself.  I  brung  dem  simmonses,  en  I  fotch 
'em,  en  I  brew  de  beer,  en  Louizy  she  so  mad  at  me 
case  I  went  widout  her  to  de  barbecue,  she  sassed  me 
awful,  en  she  up  wid  a  shovel  o'  hot  coals  en  dumps 
'em  a-top  my  ha-ad — "  Here  Poll's  feelings  overcame 
him,  and  he  swabbed  his  eyes  with  a  red  bandana.  * 

"Laws,  Ole  Miss,  didn't  hurt  dat   niggah  one  bit," 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  125 

snapped  Louisa.  "He  des  stood  dar  en  bellered,  wid 
his  wool  a-frizzlin',  he  did,  and  nevah  offaw'd  to  git 
shet  o'  dem  dar  coals  tel  Mr.  Sampson  cum'  en  seed 
'em!" 

"Louisa!"  said  Madam  Throckmorton,  in  what,  for 
her,  were  awful  tones.  They  silenced  the  culprit,  as 
also  the  spasmodic  giggling  of  the  seamstresses. 

When,  with  a  pledge  from  Louisa  that  she  would 
dispense  in  future  with  this  particular  method  of  con- 
jugal reproof,  the  happy  couple  were  dismissed.  Nutty 
sat  down  at  Grandmamma's  elbow  under  the  eaves  of 
the  big  chair  where  she  had  received  many  a  lesson 
in  the  fine  arts  of  needlework, 

"  Fern  stitch,  finny  stitch,  new-stitch,  and  chain  stitch, 
Spanish  stitch,  rosemary  stitch,  herring-bone,  and  maw-stitch." 

"Now,  Granny  dear,"  she  said.  "Let  us  go  'pos- 
sum-hunting this  once  more,  and  I'll  never  ask  again. 
Bonnibel  has  promised  to  go,  too,  and  you  may  be 
sure  we'll  run  into  no  mischief." 

"Well,  once  more,"  said  the  old  lady.  "I  was  just 
sending  Phyllis  for  you,  my  dear. '  There's  a  letter 
from  your  Aunt  Eleanor." 

Nutty's  face  flamed.  She  looked  ready  to  burst 
into  tears. 

"Oh,  don't  say  it's  to  make  me  go  to  stay  with 
her!"  she  cried.  "Dear,  dear  Granny,  it  would  break 
my  heart  to  leave  you  and  Flower  de  Hundred." 

"But    consider,  my    child.     Mrs.  Courtland  is  your 


126  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

mother's  only  sister.  She  has  the  means  and  the 
desire  to  give  you  more  advantages  than  you  could 
possibly  have  here.  They  are,  it  appears,  just  going 
to  sail  for  Europe  to  spend  a  year,  and  she  wants  you 
to  share  the  education,  there,  of  her  own  two  girls." 

"Oh,  Grandmamma,  there  must  be  something 
wrong  inside  of  me,"  said  the  girl  earnestly;  "but  I 
can't  feel  towards  Aunt  Eleanor  as  I  should.  She  was 
so  cold  to  us  while  Mamma  lived,  I've  always  heard; 
and  she  took  no  notice  of  my  existence  till  you'd  had 
me  here  for  a  year  or  two.  My  one  visit  to  her  two 
years  ago  I  never  can  forget.  That  great  fine  country 
house  on  the  Hudson,  everything  so  formal  and  so 
different  from  our  life  here !  Aunt  Eleanor  seemed  to 
be  always  apologizing  to  her  husband  for  the  South. 
The  governess  and  the  girls  were  always  criticising  my 
way  of  speaking,  and  looking  at  me  as  if  they  had  to 
put  up  their  lorgnettes  to  find  me.  They  had  such 
queer  notions  of  us — and  Mr.  Courtland  said  things  I 
never  could  forgive — I  felt  every  drop  of  my  Throck- 
morton blood  bubble  in  my  veins — he's  so  narrow,  and 
worships  his  money  so.  I  believe  it's  he  who  has 
spoiled  Aunt  Eleanor.  When  I  came  back  to  the 
plantation  I  jumped  for  joy." 

"My  poor,  foolish  little  girl!"  said  Grandmamma, 
stroking  her  head  with  infinite  gentleness.  "What 
can  I  say  to  you?  Dear  Richard  has  left  it  all  to  me. 
It's  my  duty  not  to  let  you  stand  in  your  own  light." 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  127 

"You  are  my  light,  Granny — you  and  Cousin  Rich- 
ard," cried  the  child.  "I  love  every  brick  of  the 
house,  every  twig  of  the  trees.  Don't,  don't,  don't 
banish  me;  and  I'll  be  grateful  all  my  life.  What's 
more,  I'll  study  hard  with  Mademoiselle,  and  beg  Mr. 
Crabtree's  pardon,  and — " 

"Don't  promise  too  much,  dear  child,"  said  the 
little  lady  smiling.  'There,  run  away,  now ;  here's  old 
Sabra  coming  with  eggs  to  sell,  and  a  new  chapter  of 
grievances  to  pour  out.  I'll  talk  it  over  with  your 
Cousin  Richard,  and  see  what  can  be  done." 

Nutty,  wild  with  delight,  ran  bareheaded  out-of- 
doors,  and,  summoning  Vic,  danced  like  a  mote  in  the 
sunshine  of  the  joyous  autumn  day. 

"The  question  is,  have  we  the  right?"  said  Grand- 
mamma, sighing.  "The  child  would  leave  a  sad  - 
gap  in  the  house.  I  can't  let  her  see  it,  but  there's 
no  doubt  her  estimate  of  the  Courtlands  is  correct. 
Although  Nutty's  father  was  only  Richard's  second 
cousin  once  removed — we  were  very  fond  of  him  and 
he  of  us— and  it  isn't  as  if  Ursula  were  altogether 
poor.  Richard  says  he'll  have  a  tidy  sum  laid  up  for 
her  by  the  time  she  comes  of  age— not  much,  but  an 
independence  for  the  girl." 

"I've  no  patience  with  Eleanor  Courtland,  and 
that's  a  fact,"  said  Miss  Polly.  "She's  a  New  Orleans 
woman  born,  and  has  turned  her  nose  up  at  us  ever 
since  she  married  in  the  North.     As  to  those  second- 


128  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

hand  fans  and  trumpery  dress  patterns  she  sends  down 
here  to  Nutty,  you'd  think  she  took  us  for  a  parcel  of 
Ojibbeways.  Nutty  shows  her  good  sense  by  wanting 
to  stay  just  where  she  is;  and  if  I  were  Richard  I 
wouldn't  let  her  budge." 

Nutty's  April  clouds  had  vanished  when,  after 
night-fall,  the  'possum  hunters  set  out  on  their  inglori- 
ous but  entertaining  quest.  The  girls,  wearing  short 
dresses,  with  scarlet  sashes  knotted  around  their 
Avaists,  and  caps  of  scarlet  wool  set  sidewise  on  their 
locks,  looked  like  huntress-fairies.  They  were  accom- 
panied by  the  two  young  men,  and  a  cousin  or  so  from 
the  supply  always  on  hand  at  the  house,  and  preceded 
by  Yellow  Jock  with  his  whimpering  dogs  and  a 
couple  of  negro  boys  carrying  torches  of  fat  pine. 
The  glare  of  red  light  between  drifting  columns  of 
black  smoke,  lit  up  the  tracery  of  boughs  overhead 
with  brilliant  effect,  causing  the  torch-bearers  to 
resemble  gnomes,  and  the  rest  of  the  party  conspira- 
tors bent  on  uncanny  enterprise.  When  Yellow  Jock, 
at  the  end  of  a  half-mile  tramp  through  brake  and 
brier,  loosed  his  dogs  from  the  leash,  they  darted 
ahead,  and  soon  proclaimed  a  "find."  Following  the 
trail,  our  hunters  saw  the  two  dogs  sitting  on  their 
haunches  at  the  foot  of  a  slender  sapling,  waking  the 
echoes  of  wood  and  swamp  with  joyous  barks.  A 
torch,  swung  under  the  tree,  disclosed  clinging  to  an 
upper  branch   and  looking  down  at  his  pursuers  with 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  1 29 

intelligent  eyes,  his  hair  ruffled  with  fright,  a  small  rat- 
tailed  animal,  with  a  sharp  nose. 

"Golly,  dat's  a  gran'pa  possum,"  cried  one  of  the 
negro  lads.     "He  des  bulgin'  out  wid  fat,  Unk  Jock." 

"Gimme  dat  axe,  boy,"  said  Yellow  Jock,  and  with  a 
single  expert  blow  at  the  root,  the  little  persimmon 
tree,  with  its  double  burden  of  fruit  and  game,  fell 
crashing  to  the  earth.  The  dogs  with  a  jump  fastened 
upon  their  prey. 

"Git  along  wnd  yer  nonsense,  gals,"  cried  Yellow 
Jock,  beating  them  off  and  administering  a  blow  to 
the  victim  that  stunned  it  instantly.  The  bright  eyes 
were  glazed  and  the  creature  lay  limp  and  pitiful  as 
Jock  picked  it  up  and  consigned  it  to  one  of  the  ne- 
groes, the  dogs  with  mouths  watering  as  they  watched 
his  shoulder  where  it  hung. 

"Ain'  mor'n  a  quarter  dead.  Missy,"  the  old  man  ex- 
plained to  Bonnibel.  "Ef  I  was  to  nuss  him  by  de 
cabin  fire,  he'd  jump  up  peart  nough,  'en  make  tracks 
fo'  de  swamp.  But  des  as  long's  he  tinks  dem  dogs 
a-watchin'  him,  he  pertend  to  be  deader'n  a  do'  nail. 
Dat's  possum  natur,  honey;  dey's  dat  'ceetful,  I  hain' 
nebber  see  nutin'  but  a  'ooman  as  can  equil  'em  for 
foolin'  men  folks.  You,  Sam,  wot  you  larfin  at,  'n 
swingin'  dat  ar  torch  so's  you  mos'  sot  Marse  Dick's 
coat-tails  afire?" 

Sam,  who  had  some  keen  personal  relish  of  the  joke 
at    the    expense    of    the   beguiling    sex,  continued    to 


I30  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

chuckle  and  show  his  ivories,  until  the  dogs  discovered 
another  opossum,  small  and  timid,  lying  flat  on  the 
bough  of  a  maple.  In  his  excitement  Sam  laid  down 
the  first  prize  upon  a  root,  and  Ursula,  happening  to 
look  that  way,  saw  the  "gran'pa  possum"  stiffening 
up  into  a  semblance  of  his  former  self,  and  glancing 
cautiously  around  preparatory  to  escape.  The  alarm 
given,  the  fugitive  was  incontinently  seized  by  the 
tail;  and  Jock,  whose  imagination  was  already  reveling 
in  a  vision  of  a  toothsome  roast  bedded  in  "taters," 
with  corn  pone  and  coffee  to  follow,  bestowed  on 
Sambo  an  admonitory  buffet. 

The  baby  opossum  seemed  to  be  possessed  of  an 
almost  human  ingenuity  in  baffling  their  efforts  to 
shake  it  down — Dick  not  wishing  to  sacrifice  the  limb 
of  a  fine  tree.  He  would  loosen  first  one  leg,  then 
another,  then  a  third,  and  w^hen  apparently  about  to 
fall  exhausted  to  the  ground,  annexed  himself  by  the 
tail,  and  hung,  as  tightly  welded  as  before.  When  he 
had  fooled  them  to  the  top  of  his  bent,  the  little  de- 
ceiver turned  and  ran  off  like  a  flash,  but  unfortu- 
nately, encountering  Sambo  in  a  crotch  of  the  tree, 
took  by  mistake  the  downward  course,  and  was  seized 
by  the  dogs  on  reaching  terra  firma. 

"Let  him  off,"  cried  Bonnibcl  and  Ursula.  But 
Yellow  Jock  had  already  decided  his  fate  by  a  sting- 
ing blow  upon  the  head. 

"Now,  shall  we  go  home?"  said  Bonnibel ;  and,   as 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  131 

the  procession  again  took  up  the  Hne  of  march,  she 
walked  with  Miles,  following  the  others. 

"How  weird  this  light  makes  the  beautiful  forest 
look!"  she  said.  "I  seem  to  see  crouching  forms  in 
every  thicket,  here  especially,  on  the  edge  of  the 
swamp,  where  the  trees  are  gray  and  distorted  with 
age,  and  those  long  vines  hang  down  and  the  'old 
man's  beard'  clothes  every  bough." 

It  was  in  truth  a  dreary  bit  of  woodland  they  were 
crossing,  and  involuntarily  the  girl  drew  close  to  her 
companion. 

"I  hope  you  have  found  our  aboriginal  sport  worth 
your  effort,"  said  Miles.  "It  was,  at  any  rate,  exceed- 
ingly picturesque." 

"I  should  not  succeed  as  a  hunter.  The  spectacle 
of  those  poor  little  wretches,  bringing  their  ingenuity 
into  competition  with  man's  craft,  filled  me  with  sym- 
pathy for  them.  But  then,  I  can't  resist  the  impulse 
to  side  with  any  living  thing  at  bay.  I  never  read  of 
a  prisoner's  escape — any  prisoner — without  feeling 
glad  that  justice  is  eluded." 

"Fortunately,  the  reins  of  government  are  put  into 
other  hands  than  yours.  For  me,  I  can't  pretend 
to  understand  sentimentalism  with  offenders.  If  a 
man  has  outraged  law,  by  law  he  ought  to  suffer;  and 
the  less  palaver  over  it,  the  better." 

"Oh,  what's  that?"  cried  Bell. 

"I  heard  nothing." 


132  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

"It  was  like  a  sigh — or  a  moan — or  both,"  she  whis- 
pered, shuddering.  The  path  they  Avere  following, 
faintly  lighted  by  starlight  and  the  receding  torches, 
was  full  of  moss-grown  roots  and  hummocks,  and  so 
narrow  at  the  margin  of  the  swamp  as  to  compel  them 
to  walk  in  single  file.  Bell,  ashamed  to  acknowledge 
it,  had  been  seized  with  nervous  horror  of  the  place. 
The  sound  she  had  heard  did  not  reassure  her,  and 
when  Miles,  falling  back,  stopped  for  a  moment  to 
light  his  pipe  and  she  saw,  lurking  behind  a  tree  and 
nearly  touching  him,  a  man's  form,  she  was  fairly  terri- 
fied. 

"Make  haste,  make  haste,"  she  said,  trembling  in 
every  limb,  "or  we  shall  never  catch  up  with  them." 

Panic  lending  wings  to  her  feet  she  darted  ahead, 
Miles  following,  all  unconscious  of  what  impelled  her. 

"What  a  swift  Atalanta  you  are,"  he  said,  overtak- 
ing her  at  last.  "You  caught  me  by  surprise  in  giving 
me  this  breather." 

"Oh,  Miles — that  man — that  dreadful  man  !"  she 
panted,  clinging  to  his  arm.  "In  the  swamp — close  to 
you — when  you  stopped — " 

"My  dear  Bell,  you  are  dreaming,"  he  said,  startled 
by  her  evident  distress. 

"Oh!  no,  no!  he  was  there— I  saw  by  the  light  of 
your  match — plainly — the  negro — I  thought  he  would 
hurt  you,  and  I  didn't  dare  to  scream." 

Bell  made   a  brave   fight   for  self-control,  but  weak 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  133 

nature  overpowered  her,  and  she  burst  into  a  flood  of 
hysterical  tears. 

''Bonnibel,  darling,"  whispered  Miles,  clasping  her  in 
his  arms.  "How  can  you  be  afraid,  when  I  am  here? 
I,  who  love  you  so  that  I'd  give  my  life  to  save  you 
from  one  pang."  So  fierce  was  his  joy  at  feeling  that 
she  did  not  resist  his  touch,  but  rather  trembled  sigh- 
ing to  his  heart,  he  could  not  find  words  to  speak. 
One  moment  he  held  her  so,  and  then  back  through 
the  forest  gloom  floated  the  ring  of  Dick's  voice  in  a 
yodeling  call  they  had  used  as  a  summons  to  each 
other  from  boyhood. 

The  two  started  apart,  and  stood  with  violently 
beating  "hearts.  Miles  felt  as  if  a  gun-shot  had  gone 
through  him. 

"Wont  you  ....  wont  somebody  go  back  .... 
and  look  after  ....  him  ....  that  man?"  Bell  said, 
with  a  mighty  effort  to  steady  her  utterance. 

"When  we  have  seen  you  safe  at  home.  It  is  not 
far  from  here  to  the  house,"  he  answered,  and  the 
sound  of  his  voice  struck  on  his  consciousness  with 
curious  effect.  It  was  as  if  some  one  far  away  were 
speaking  through  a  storm. 

"Let  us  hurry,  then,"  she  answered,  turning  her  face 
from  him. 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  But  when  comes  winter 
With  hail  and  storm, 
«  And  red  fire  roaring, 

And  ingle  warm — 

Sing  first  sad  going 
Of  friends  that  part. 

Then  sing  glad  meeting 
And  my  love's  heart." 

Christmas  in  old  Virginia!  All  was  in  readiness 
at  Flower  de  Hundred  for  the  entertainment  of  as" 
large  a  party  as  could  be  disposed  of  within  its  walls. 

In  every  chimney,  high-piled  hickory  was  snapping 
defiance  of  Jack  Frost,  for  to  the  surprise  of  the 
household  a  light  snow  had  fallen,  powdering  woods 
and  fields,  crowning  fences  and  gables,  and  lending  a 
strange  charm  to  the  green  of  magnolias,  yews,  and 
hollies  on  the  lawns. 

The  ladies  of  the  house,  relaxing  their  work  of  prepa- 
ration, went  from  floor  to  floor  admiring  the  results. 
Through  the  open  doors  upon  the  corridors  upstairs, 
bed-rooms  displayed  plump  shrines  in  speckless  dra- 
pery, bright  fires,  and  that  general  air  of  nicety  it 
seems  a  pity  to  disturb.  Below,  chairs,  couches, 
curtains,  books,  hearths,  vases,  each  had  received  its 
final   touch  from  beautifying   fingers.      In  the  store- 

134 


FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED.  135 

room  and   still-room,   perhaps,  had   been   reached   the 
high  water  mark  of  old  time  housekeeping.     For  days 
past,  the   womenkind  had   been   whisking  about   with 
flushed  cheeks,  sticky   fingers,  and  garments  distilling 
odors    of   the    East,    checking    with    stern    rebuke    all 
overtures    to    intimate   approach.     Bonnibel,    who  ex- 
celled in  making  high  art  canopies  of  lace-work  icing 
dropped  from  a  paper  cone,  had  executed  the  decora- 
tions of  a  Christmas   cake  that    was  a  wonder  of   its 
kind.     Ursula,  idle  and  fitful  in  her  ministry,  inclined 
to   dart   about,  to   taste,   to   comment,  to    investigate, 
had    been  condemned   to   blanch    almonds,  which   she 
afterwards  pounded   with  rose-water  in  a  marble  mor- 
tar— on    the  whole,   a  rather   fascinating   toil.     Little 
Grandmamma,  informed    peremptorily    that   her   duty 
was   to    "sit    on    a   cushion    and    look    like    a  queen," 
begged  for  leave  to  cut   out  of  note  paper  the  Toby 
frills    used    to    finish    ham-bones     and    deck     candle 
sockets.     As  for  Cousin  Polly,  her  eye  and  hand  were 
everywhere.     Her  least  care  was  to  ascertain  in  person 
that  a  supply  of  her  own  pot-pourri  scent-bags,  quince 
seed  bandoline,  and  rose  paste  for  chapped  hands  was 
distributed    in   the  chambers   of  the  guests;    and   she 
herself  hung  the  towel-racks  with  damask  naperies,  and 
stuck  the  cushions  full  of  pins. 

Who  was  expected?  Oh,  for  such  a  week  of  fes- 
tivity, cousins  were  convened  from  Henrico,  from  New 
Kent,  from  Gloucester,  from  Goochland,  from   Albe- 


136  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

marie,  from  Orange,  from  Fluvanna,  from  Fairfax — 
people  who  knew  what  was  good  for  them  always 
accepted  an  invitation  to  Flower  de  Hundred!  They 
would  journey  thither  by  boat,  in  family  coaches,  or, 
if  near  enough,  on  horseback,  with  the  usual  array  of 
grooms  and  valets  to  carry  bandboxes  and  bags.  One 
rosy  daughter  of  a  neighboring  squire  arrived,  that 
year,  seated  behind  her  father  on  a  pillion,  with  both 
arms  clasped  around  his  portly  waist. 

Ursula  loved  the  buzz  and  soft  confusion  of  the 
filling  of  the  house.  Ladies  chatting,  maids  unpack- 
ing, running  hither  and  thither,  pinning,  tying,  compli- 
menting, over  all  such  a  smell  of  Christmas  greens 
brought  out  by  the  summer  warmth ! 

When,  on  Christmas  Eve — their  number  was  well 
nigh  complete — the  yellow  coach  from  Honey  Hall 
drew  up  upon  the  drive-way,  everybody  felt  relieved. 
It  would  have  been  an  affaire  manquee  without  the 
presence  of  Tom  and  Tabby;  and  Tom  had  been 
threatened  with  an  attack  upon  his  chest,  which  made 
it  doubtful  whether  Vashti  would  allow  him  to  take 
the  air.  But  here  they  were,  at  last.  Down  came  the 
creaking  carriage  steps,  and  out  came  Tom,  muffled 
and  top-coated  beyond  the  chance  of  recognition  from 
his  nearest  friend.  The  tyrant  had  even  endued  him 
with  a  pair  of  blue-glass  spectacles.  After  the  master 
descended  Mistress  Tabby,  ample  and  beaming,  and 
lastly  the  inevitable  Vashti,  glum  and  upright,  bearing 


Plower  de  hundred.  137 

upon  her  arm  a  basket   containing  vials*  of  medicine 
and  spoons. 

"Hovvdye,  howdye,  and  a  Merry  Christmas,  all," 
chirped  Tabby;  "Tom  can't  speak,  poor  thing,  till  he 
gets  his  muffler  off.  Vashti  suspects  a  leetle  touch  of 
quinsey,  and  if  there's  anything  goes  hard  with  Tom — 
now  Tom  dear,  don't  you  struggle  so,  or  you'll  never 
get  out  of  all  those — and  whatever  you  do,  don't  get  a 
check  of — there's  nothing  Vashti  dreads  so  much  for 
you  as  a  check  of  perspiration." 

"Hang  it  all!"  spluttered  "Tom  dear"  angrily, 
emerging  from  his  lendings  as  red  as  a  boiled  lobster. 
"Colonel,  these  women  between  'em  would  like  to 
stop  me  breathin'.  They've  had  all  the  windows 
down — confound  it, — Vashti,  what  you  want  with  me, 
girl — aint  you  tortured  me  enough?" 

"Time  for  your  medicine,  Marse  Tom,"  said  the 
imperturbable,  presenting  at  his  elbow  a  spoonful  of 
black  dose.  Mr.  Hazleton  made  a  face.  Vashti  stood 
motionless.  There  was  no  escape.  Down  went  the 
medicine,  and,  going  the  wrong  way,  threw  the  un- 
fortunate victim  into  a  paroxysm  of  choking  while 
Vashti  beat  him  on  the  back. 

"There  now,  Tom  dear,"  said  his  placid  lady,  when 
peace  had  been  restored.  "That  comes  of  being  ex- 
citable. Dear,  dear,  how  natural  everybody  looks. 
Howdye  Saul,  howdye  Chris  and  Jim  and  Phyllis — 
it  always  feels  so  good  to  get  back  to  Flower  de  Hun- 


13^  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

dred — the  reason  we're  so  late  the  snow  balled  under 
the  horses'  feet  and  made  them  slip,  and  Vashti 
thought  we'd  better  not  drive  fast — all's  well  that 
ends  well,  though.  I've  a  pair  of  bantams  for  you, 
Polly  Lightfoot,  that'll  make  you  feel  ashamed  of 
yours — just  a  drop  of  apple  toddy,  Saul — we  always 
say  nobody  can  beat  Saul  in  apple-tod — no,  thank  you. 
Colonel,  I'm  quite  warm  enough — so  nice  to  see  this 
splendid  fire.  Why,  Dick,  you're  looking  as  happy  as 
a  prince — no  wonder  if  the  little  bird  says  right — well, 
well,  I  spare  your  blushes.  What's  this  I  hear  about 
Miles  going  down  to  stay  at  Timberneck — an  owl  in 
an  ivy-bush,  Tom  says  he's  like.  Tom's  full  of  jokes, 
you  know.  Coming  for  Christmas,  I  suppose? — That's 
good,  it  wouldn't  be  half  a  ball,  if  Miles  weren't  here 
to  turn  me  in  the  reel.  Said  I  to  Tom,  depend  upon 
it  this  is  nothing  but  a  whim.  I  sent  Miles  down  a 
head-cheese  when  Caesar  was  going  to  the  mill — 
though  Sally  Johnson  isn't  a  bad  cook.  Well,  well, 
he'll  tire  of  single  blessedness,  they  always  do;  but 
I'll  vow  I've  looked  round  and  don't  see  a  girl  that's 
good  enough  for  Miles  in  our  neighborhood — why 
aren't  there  two  Bonnibels? — here  she  comes,  the 
beauty,  with  a  sprig  of  holly  in  her  hair — and  there's 
Cousin  John  and  Sophia,  and  the  Major  and  his  girls, 
and  the  Thompsons  of  Belair — dear,  dear,  dear,  how 
many  pleasant  people — my  head's  quite  turned  with 
pleasure !     Lucky  for  Tom  that  Christmas  comes  but 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  139 

once  a  year  to  unsettle  his  old  wife — now  isn't  it,  Tom 
dear?" 

Contrary  to  expectation,  Miles  did  not  present  him- 
self for  the  first  evening  of  festivities,  and  loud  was 
the  lamenting  over  his  absence.  After  dinner,  the 
company  broke  up  into  little  groups,  the  younger 
members  volunteering  to  entertain  their  elders  by  a 
series  of  charades,  dumb-crambo,  and  tableaux  vivants. 
.  Among  the  latter,  were  the  time-honored  "Game  of 
Life,"  and  "Rebecca  and  Rowena."  Rebecca,  always 
popular  with  brunettes,  was  gotten  up  with  plenty  of 
turkey  red,  old  China  crepe  shawls,  and  the  jewelry  of 
everybody  in  the  house  pinned  and  hung  over  the 
self-denying  Jewess,  wherever  practicable!  Rowena, 
equally  liked  by  blondes  as  offering  an  opportunity  to 
wear  sky-blue  and  to  let  down  one's  back  hair,  smiled 
broadly  in  the  act  of  receiving  Rebecca's  casket,  but 
was  much  applauded  when  the  folding  doors  were 
shut.  Then  they  had  "Magical  Music,"  supplied  by 
Mr.  Crabtree  with  his  flute;  "Stage  Coach,"  and  "Hide 
and-go-Seek."  A  tail  of  young  people,  headed  by  Ur- 
sula, ran  up  and  down  the  stairs  and  corridors — peep- 
ing through  Christmas  garlands — crouching  in  the  deep 
window-seat  upon  the  landing,  where  the  panes  of  glass 
bore  many  a  name  inscribed  with  diamond  rings  by  the 
gay  idlers  of  succeeding  generations — screaming  with 
laughter  when  caught,  till  every  echo  of  the  staunch  old 
house  came  from  its  hiding-place  to  repeat  the  fun ! 


I40  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

At  eleven  o'clock  Saul  went  through  the  rooms  with 
a  silver  salver  displaying  cut-glass  tumblers  of  egg- 
nog — other  servants  following  with  silver  baskets  of 
cake  tasted  by  the  matrons  and  indorsed  with  nods  as 
meaning  as  Lord  Burleigh's.  Just  before  midnight, 
the  hall  door  opened  to  let  in,  with  the  rush  of  frosty 
air  and  glimpses  of  starlight  and  snow-tipped  boughs, 
two  stalwart  wood-cutters  bearing  between  them  the 
huge  segment  of  a  forest  monarch,  long  seasoned  in 
the  woodhouse.  This  was  the  Yule-log,  always 
rolled  into  place  by  the  men  of  the  family  upon  the 
iron  dogs  under  old  Guy  Throckmorton's  fire-back 
with  the  twisted  monogram  and  crest,  and  lighted 
with  a  brand  from  last  year's  log. 

As  the  flame  from  a  bed  of  red  embers  leaped  up 
and  licked  the  moss  and  lichens  from  the  Yule-log,  the 
master  of  the  house,  with  his  beautiful  old  mother  on 
his  arm.  stood  on  the  hearth-rug  watching  it.  Sur- 
rounded by  kinsfolk,  friends,  and  beneficiaries,  not  one 
but  might  have  borne  witness  to  some  act  of  his  loyal 
generosity ;  with  a  conscience  void  of  offense,  with  his 
fondest  hopes  for  some  of  his  best  beloved  on  the  eve 
of  fruition,  he  looked  proud  and  glad ;  and  yet  those 
who  read  him  aright  saw  a  shadow  upon  the  good 
man's  brow,  as,  according  to  annual  custom,  wheeling 
about  to  face  his  guests,  he  cleared  his  throat  to 
speak : 

"My    dear    kinsmen    and     friends,"    said     Richard 


FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED.  Ul 

Throckmorton,  "this  is  the  time  at  which  those  who 
have  been  wont  to  meet  around  my  hearth  to  cele- 
brate the  most  beautiful  festival  of  our  Christian  year 
have  always  let  me  be  their  spokesman.  Since  we 
last  gathered  here,  thank  God,  there*  have  been  no 
breaks  in  our  circle  to  mar  the  joy  of  this  reunion. 
My  own  cup  has  been  sweetened  by  blessings  I  have 
ill-deserved.  My  dear  grandson,  Dick,  and  my  adopted 
grandson,  Miles,  have  finished  their  University  course 
and  come  back  to  me  with  credit  honestly  achieved  by 
manly  purpose,  and  ready  to  begin  a  life  which  I  hope 
and  believe  will  make  of  them  good  citizens,  good 
masters,  honorable  bearers  of  a  name  that  has  never 
known  dishonor.  In  wishing  for  you  all,  from  the  bot- 
tom of  my  heart,  a  'Merry  Christmas'  and  a  'Happy 
New  Year,'  I  have  something,  in  return,  to  ask  of 
you — I  want  your  best  wishes — come  Dick— come 
Bonnibel,  my  dear,— here,  let  me  hold  a  hand  of  each 
of  you— for  these  two  young  people  who  have  promised 
each  other  to  make  me  happy  by  becoming  man  and 
wife.  My  friends  ....  as  you  see  ....  my  heart's 
too  full  to  say  more.  I  present  to  you  Miss  Amabel 
Leigh,  the  future  mistress  of  my  grandson's  home." 

As  the  Colonel  spoke,  there  had  been  a  start— a  rus- 
tle around  the  ring  of  lookers-on,  a  swaying  to  and  fro 
of  heads  eager  to  lose  no  detail  of  the  scene— Dick, 
proud,  alert,  a  love-light  in  his  blue  eyes  that  beauti- 
fied his  face,  stood  on  his  grandfather's  right— Bonni- 


142  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

bel,  her  eyes  dropped,  the  bloom  deepened  to  carmine 
in  her  lovely  cheeks,  nestled,  as  if  frightened,  on  the  left 
arm  the  old  man  had  thrown  around  her  shoulders! 

Only  Ursula  chanced  to  see  that,  at  the  moment  the 
Colonel  had  begun  to  speak,  the  door  leading  into  the 
study  had  opened  and  Miles  had  come  in  and  stood 
pale  and  silent  on  the  outskirts  of  the  group.  The  lit- 
tle girl  repressed  an  exclamation  of  dismay,  and  as  an 
understanding  of  what  her  childish  heedlessness  had 
failed  hitherto  to  see  flashed  upon  her  mind,  she  fol- 
lowed the  impulse  of  her  heart  and  glided  to  his  side. 
In  the  confusion  that  ensued  of  laughter,  chat,  con- 
gratulations, and  kisses,  all  pressing  around  Bonnibel 
who  remained  tightly  clinging  to  the  Colonel's  arm, 
nobody  observed  Nutty,  who  had  eyes  but  for  one 
darkling  face,  looking  up  into  it,  pleading  for  leave  to 
suffer  in  silence  with  his  grief. 

It  was  over  at  last !  Miles  had  wrung  Dick's  hand, 
had  taken  Bonnibel's  chill  fingers  in  his  clasp,  had 
been  embraced  by  his  grandfather  with  a  muttered 
"God  bless  you,  my  own  lad,"  that  went  far  to  warm- 
ing his  sad  heart — had  exchanged  greetings  and  pleas- 
antries with  the  guests  as  best  he  could.  He  could 
bear  the  strain  no  longer.  When  the  clock  in  the  hall 
chimed  midnight,  he  left  them  and  went  out  into  the 
darkness.  Here,  again,  all  was  jollity.  The  Colonel, 
pleasing  himself  by  planning  surprises  for  every  one, 
had  ordered  a  bonfire  to  be  kindled.     Around  it  gath- 


PLOIVER  DE  HUNDRED.  143 

ered  black  faces  lit  by  the  ruddy  glow,  the  number 
swelled  by  arrivals  from  the  quarter,  by  twos,  threes, 
and  in  groups,  whistling  or  singing— and  whoopings 
came  from  afar  in  token  that  laggards  were  on  the 
way.  Then  sounds  were  heard  of  hurrying  feet,  of  a 
"pat  and  dance"  beginning,  in  which  gradually  all 
would  join  till  the  rich  swell  of  the  accompanying 
chorus,  blending  in  natural  unison,  should  seem  like 
one  vast  organ  pipe,  unstopped  to  pour  its  volume  on 
the  air. 

Miles,  knowing  not  which  way  to  turn,  stood,  his 
back  against  a  tree,  gazing  at  the  lighted  fagade  of  the 
house.  It  was  like  the  fairy  palace  of  his  childish 
fancy,  at  which  the  wandering,  disinherited  prince 
arrives  in  search  of  adventure.  His  adventure  was 
now  as  a  tale  that  had  been  told,  with  "finis"  written 
at  the  end.  His  disastrous  love  dream  had  worked 
out  his  virtual  exclusion  from  his  home.  No,  not  his 
home — Dick's — Dick,  who  was  master  of  all  he  loved 
and  coveted — Miles,  an  outsider  gazing  with  hungry 
eyes  at  a  banquet  he  might  not  taste. 

On  the  day  following  the  night-walk  through  the 
woods  with  Bonnibel,  he  had  told  his  grandfather  of 
his  love  and  his  temptation— of  all,  in  fact,  but  her 
apparent  leaning  of  fancy  toward  himse^:.  He  had 
besought  and  won  leave  to  go  down  to  'li-.-nberneck, 
and  "camp  out"  in  the  old  house,  wLiere  the  Colonel 
had  always  kept    a   man   and  his  wife   in  charge,  "as 


.144  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

a  temporary  measure  only,"  the  fond  elder  used 
to  say. 

In  his  solitude,  Miles  had  reasoned  out  that  her 
turning  to  him  had  been  the  mere  seeking  of  young 
tendrils  to  curl  around  the  nearest  object.  He  knew 
himself  to  be  a  restless,  undisciplined  fellow,  ill  pre- 
pared to  settle  in  any  bonds;  one  who  would  make  no 
woman's  happiness  till  some  of  what  was  in  him  had 
found  a  vent. 

So  far,  good !  He  had  come  home  for  Christmas 
Eve,  informed  of  the  new  bond  between  Dick  and  his 
sweetheart,  who  had  persuaded  herself  that  what  she 
now  did  would  make  everybody  happy ;  but  at  the 
sight  of  them  together,  a  fury  of  jealousy  had  assailed 
and  mastered  him.     And  the  tempest  was  not  stilled. 

Then  the  great  hall  door  swung  open  heavily.  Out 
into  the  night  came,  in  a  burst  of  warmth  and  radi- 
ance, the  figures  of  the  guests,  wrapped  and  bundled, 
to  group  on  the  "back  porch,"  the  Colonel  appearing 
last  with  Bonnibel  and  Dick.  The  light  of  the  torches 
carried  by  the  negroes,  who,  advancing,  closed  in  a 
ring  around  that  side  of  the  house,  fell  full  upon  the 
old  man's  white  head  and  noble  features.  At  once 
arose  shouts,"three  cheers,  for  Ole  Marse'"  with  a  re- 
sponse of  deafening  cordiality. 

"Now  boys,"  said  the  Colonel,  coming  to  the  front, 
"it's  cold  work  speechifying  here;  and  I've  but  few 
words  to    say.      When    I've   done    saying   them,    Mr. 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  145 

Sampson  will  take  care  you're  supplied  with  stuff  for  a 
first  class  barbecue.  For,  as  I'm  pretty  sure  you 
suspect,  I've  sent  for  you  to-night  and  am  going 
to  let  you  have  the  barbecue  because  something 
has  happened  that  I  want  the  whole  plantation 
to  enjoy." 

"Bress  Jesus!"  "Lawd,  send  down  marcy !"  here 
irrelevantly  put  in  one  or  two  old  crones  who,  as  the 
Colonel  began,  had  closed  their  eyes  and  stood  rock- 
ing their  bodies  back  and  forth. 

"The  time  must  come,"  continued  their  master, 
"and  in  the  nature  of  things  can't  be  very  far  away, 
when  somebody  else  must  live  here  and  direct  you  in 
my  place." 

"No  indeedy!"  "Nebber  say  die,  Ole  Marse." 
"Aint  got  tired  o' presen'  company!"  were  some  of 
the  flattering  interruptions  to  this  statement. 

"Well,  boys,  I'm  in  no  hurry  to  go,"  said  the  Colo- 
nel. "But  when  I  do,  you  all  know  that  your  Master 
Dick  will  succeed  me.  A  good  son,  a  good  friend, 
makes  a  good  master;  and  I  don't  think  you'll  be 
the  worse  when  he  takes  the  reins  into  his  hands. 
He's  grown  up  among  you,  you've  loved  him  and 
made  much  of  him.  He  thinks  of  you  as  friends 
who,  after  his  family,  should  be  first  to  know  when 
any  good  luck  befalls  him.  Master  Dick,  tfierefore, 
wishes  me  to  tell  you  all  that  he*s  been  fortunate 
enoygh  to  get   Miss    Bonnibel  to  promise  to  be  his 


-146  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

wife — stop!  wait  one  minute,  and  you've  my  leave  to 
make  all  the  noise  you  can.  I  want,  before  I  stop,  to 
bespeak  for  my  grandson  and  his  beautiful  young 
bride  the  same  love  and  loyalty  you've  yielded  me. 
If  there's  any  ill-will  in  the  Flower  de  Hundred  plan- 
tation toward  the  family  at  the  Great  House,  I've  yet 
to  hear  of  it.  You're  an  orderly,  decent,  faithful  set 
of  fellows,  and  you've  got  as  nice  wives  and  daughters 
as  any  on  the  river.  For  myself,  for  my  dear  old 
mother,  and  for  those  who  are  to  follow  us,  I  say 
good-night  and  Merry  Christmas  to  you  all."  Miles, 
with  his  back  against  the  oak,  felt  stunned  by  the 
rousing  cheers  that  sent  wave  after  w^ave  of  sound 
upon  the  night.  He  saw  Dick  take  Bonnibel  by  the 
hand  to  lead  her  forward  and  stand  there  in  the 
torch-light — and  then,  like  a  lost  soul  shut  out  of 
Heaven,  he  turned  and  fled  away. 

"Marse  Miles,"  said  a  piping  little  voice;  and  a 
claw-like  hand  tugged  at  his  coat. 

Miles  turned.  He  was  at  some  distance  from,  the 
house,  striding  with  set  lips  whither  he  knew  not. 
The  little  darkey  had  been  running  at  his  heels.  In 
his  hand  a  lighted  torch  bobbed  up  and  down. 

"What  do  you  want?  Why  do  you  bother  me?" 
he  said  roughly. 

'T'se  Chris,  Marse  Miles,  Aun'  Sabra's  gran'child. 
Daddy  Jack  sont  me,  sah.  He  say  I  war  to  fin'  you  at 
de  Gret  Hus,  en  ax  you  to  come  dar  right  away." 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  147 

"Come  there — where?"  asked  the  young  man  impa- 
tiently. 

"Daddy  Jack's  cabin,  sah.  Fse  got  to  go  wid  you, 
sah,  en  carry  de  tawch ;  en,  Marse  Miles,  I  so  afeard." 

The  little  fellow  was  shivering  with  cold  and  ter- 
ror. Miles,  who  could  not  bear  to  see  suffering  in  any 
shape,  answered  him  more  kindly  : 

"Here,  you  go  along  back  to  where  the  fire  is,  and 
give  me  the  torch." 

"Please,  sah,  Tse  bown  to  go,"  shivered  Chris. 
"Daddy  Jack,  he  cum  after  me  to  Mammy's  cabin  en 
sont  vie  on  de  arrant.  He  say  I  was  to  tell  Marse 
Miles  'twar  a  arrant  o'  hfe  an  def.  I'se  bin  lookin' 
fur,  you,  sah,  'en  jus'  cotch  a  sight  o'  you  under  dat 
ar  tree  wen  you  tuck  to  clippin'  out  dis  a  way,  'en  I 
run  arter  you." 

"Well,  here  goes,"  said  Miles,  anything  at  the 
moment  seeming  to  him  relief.  "Don't  be  afraid, 
Chris;  I'll  keep  close  at  your  heels,  and  the  powers  of 
evil  are  more  likely  to  think  you  one  of  their  own 
goblins,  than  to  go  for  you,  I'm  sure.  Skip,  now,  you 
little  rascal." 

It  was  not  unusual  for  the  members  of  the  family  to 
be  summoned  to  visit  a  cabin  in  cases  of  sudden 
illness ;  but  Daddy  Jack's  case  had  in  it  a  smack  of 
the  eerie,  offering  an  outlet  to  the  mad  humor  domi- 
nating Miles  at  the  moment.  Entering  the  monoto- 
nous arcades  of  the   pine-wood,  their  way  became  as 


148  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

much  isolated  from  the  chances  of  human  interruption 
as  if  in  desert  wilds.  A  dreary  path  by  day,  by 
night  it  was  always  shunned. 

Jack's  cabin,  built  of  lichen-covered  logs  the  inter- 
stices filled  with  moss,  cowered  on  the  edge  of  a 
pond  of  copper-tinted  water.  Behind  it  rose  blighted 
pines,  some  having  died  of  overcrowding,  old  age,  or 
want  of  nutriment,  others  having  been  blasted  by 
lightning,  and  leaning  across  each  other  in  chevaux 
de  frise.  At  the  approach  of  footsteps  to  the  spot,  a 
night  bird  perched  upon  the  roof-peak  uttered  a 
warning  note  and  flew  away.  At  once,  a  light 
gleamed  from  a  loop-hole  beside  the  door,  and  the 
voice  of  Daddy  Jack  was  heard  to  call: 

"Is  that  you,  Chris?" 

"I've  come  with  Chris,  Daddy  Jack,"  said  Miles 
carelessly.  "Hurry  up  and  let  us  in;  or,  what's  better, 
send  this  boy  home  to  his  mammy  before  his  eyes 
drop  quite  out  of  his  head  with  fear." 

"Run  home  now,  Chris,"  said  the  old  man  benevo- 
lently, as  he  unbarred  and  opened  the  heavy  door  of 
cross-laid  timbers.  Chris  needed  no  second  bidding. 
Dropping  his  torch,  that  fell  into  the  water  and  went 
out  with  a  hiss,  the  little  fellow  tore  along  the  path 
of  pine  needles,  more  fleet  of  foot  and  willing  than 
before  or  after  during  the  span  of  his  mortal  expe- 
rience. The  young  man,  in  the  vigor  of  his  athletic 
youth,  would  have  laughed  to  scorn  the  idea  of  per- 


FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED.  149 

sonal  violence  from  the  African,  for  whom,  physically, 
he  was  so  much  more  than  a  match.  Nor  did  the 
magician's  powers,  accredited  to  Jack  by  the  negroes, 
impress  him  with  respect.  But  as  the  a^e-like  figure, 
a  tame  crow  sitting  upon  his  shoulder,  stood  there 
confronting  him  with  a  curiously  sinister  gaze,  Miles 
felt  a  trifle  shaken  from  his  balance  of  cool  indiffer- 
ence. 

"Well,  old  man,  what  do  you  want  with  me?"  he 
said,  hghtly  stepping  across  the  gloomy  threshold,  "I 
suppose  this  is  your  idea  of  a  pleasant  way  for  a  man 
to  spend  the  night  before  Christmas.  If  you've  any- 
thing to  say,  out  with  it.  I'm  not  one  to  stand  tricks, 
remember." 

"I'se  a  pretty  good  han'  at  rememberin',  Marse 
Miles,"  said  the  negro,  assuming  meekness,  as  he 
carefully  shut  and  barred  the  door  again.  "An  ef  hit 
hadii  bin  time,  you  wouldn'  nevah  bin  called  to  darken 
my  door-step,  sah.  But  dere's  somebody  upstars  in 
de  lof  dat's  got  to  see  you.  Many  an'  many's  de  day 
he  axed  fur  to  hev  you  come,  but  hit  warn't  time. 
But  I  reckon  hit's  time  now— oh,  yes,  I  reckon  hit's 
time  now.     Jes  wait  a  minit,  twel  I  see." 

Darting  at  Miles  a  glance  in  which  hatred  and  tri- 
umph were  plainly  blended,  he  scrambled  up  a  ladder 
leading  to  the  loft.  Left  alone,  the  young  man 
looked  about  him  with  a  growing  consciousness  that 
he  had   let  himself  be  led  into  something  like  a  trap. 


150  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

Stooping  to  the  hearth,  he  picked  up  a  short  club 
made  of  the  root  of  a  marsh  sapHng,  of  a  pattern  such 
as  Jack  had  long  been  in  the  habit  of  selling  at  the 
boat  wharf.  Jn  the  gleam  of  embers  banked  in  wood 
ashes,  he  saw  that  he  had  disturbed  a  blind  fox-hound 
from  his  sleep,  and  at  the  same  moment  became 
creepingly  conscious  of  another — deadlier  presence. 
In  a  basket  swathed  in  woolen  rags,  near  where 
his  hand  had  touched,  an  ominous  writhing  was  per- 
ceptible. 

"Good  Heavens!"  cried  Miles,  recoiling,  to  give  the 
hearthside  a  wide  berth.  He  had  forgotten  the  witch- 
doctor's home  companions,  which  he  many  a  time  had 
seen  Jack  pack  and  handle  like  coils  of  rubber  hose. 
At  the  same  moment,  something  like  an  animated  shoe 
brush  crawled  across  his  foot.  It  was  a  domesticated 
hedp^ehoe:;  but  at  its  touch  Miles  felt  his  skin  turn  to 
goose-flesh. 

"The  fiend  take  his  Happy  Family!"  he  thought. 
"It  is  only  the  man  scared  by  a  'rattler,'  who  loses  his 
grip  like  this." 

The  hut,  lighted  by  a  wick  floating  in  melted  lard, 
owned  little  furniture  save  a  moss-lined  bunk  with 
blankets,  a  table,  and  some  stools.  After  Jack's  pets, 
including  a  land-turtle,  its  shell  curiously  inscribed 
and  declared  to  be  a  thousand  years  old — the  negroes 
most  feared  the  sorcerer's  display  upon  the  shelves  half 
covering  his  walls.     All  that  in  wood  or  swamp  Na- 


FLOWER  DE  HUXD'^Ef).  151 

ture  could  produce  in  the  way  of  distorted  growths, 
were  here  assorted.  Strange  roots,  leprous  fungi,  odd 
mosses,  nests,  boughs,  noose-like  vines  were  grouped 
amid  skulls  of  animals,  snakes  in  alcohol,  stuffed  birds 
and  lizards.  And  the  chief  terror  of  the  collection 
was  a  stuffed  black  cat  of  formidable  size,  which  never 
failed  to  reduce  the  most  callous  visitor  to  groveling 
credence  in  the  magician's  art. 

Miles,  calling  to  mind  the  Voudoo  stories  whispered 
in  trembling  by  the  slaves  upon  the  solitary  passing  of 
Daddy  Jack  through  the  plantation  haunts,  tried  to 
picture  the  old  man  leading  his  fellow  worshipers  to 
the  trysting  place  in  unfrequented  woods.  Jack's 
whistle,  fashioned  of  swamp  willow,  had  power  like 
Hernani's  pipe.  Where  and  whenever  it  might  sound, 
the  votary  must  follow.  The  gallant  captain  of  the 
corn  shuckers,  throned  on  his  pile  of  golden  ears  of 
maize,  hearing  but  a  single  flute  note  in  the  thicket, 
must  doff  his  sovereignty  and  glide  away.  The  bride- 
groom making  ready  his  nuptials  by  applying  odorous 
unguents  to  his  wool,  nay,  even  on  his  way  to  the 
cabin  of  his  fair,  must  leave  bride  and  maidens  lament- 
ing if  Daddy  summoned  him.  Old  Jinny,  Judy's  sis- 
ter, a  mammoth  like  herself,  would  tremble  at  sound 
of  Jack's  whistle  as  an  elephant  trembles  at  sight  of  a 
mouse.  Poll  Tod,  the  silly  giant,  half  stripped  and 
streaked  with  dyes,  would  leap  and  dance  himself  into 
convulsions  at   Jack's  signal,  it  was  said.     Ah ! — this 


152  FLOWER  BE  HUNDRED. 

was  certainly  not  an  agreeable  spot  in  which  to  spend 
one's  Christmas  Eve  after  midnight. 

There  had  been  until  now  no  sound  overhead  but 
the  tread  of  Jack's  flat  feet  on  the  fioor.  Then  Miles 
heard  a  faint  voice  speaking  between  gasps,  and  dis- 
missed his  suspicions  of  intended  mischief. 

"Yo'  can  walk  up  now,  sah,  ef  you  please,"  said  the 
African,  reappearing  at  the  trap-door  above.  "He's 
awake  an'  axing  fer  yer,  sah." 

Miles,  climbing  the  ladder,  found  himself  in  a 
small  raftered  room,  lit,  as  was  the  floor  below,  by  a 
wick  floating  upon  oil.  There,  on  a  pallet,  lay  a  man 
painfully  emaciated,  spending  his  scant  supply  of 
breath  in  labored  pantings,  his  large  eyes  gleam- 
ing with  the  unearthly  light  that  heralds  death's 
approach. 

"Hit's  my  son  'Gustus,  Marse  Miles,"  said  Daddy 
Jack,  in  the  restrained  manner  he  had  hitherto  ob- 
served.    "Mebbe  you  aint  nebber  heerd  o'  Gus?" 

"What — the  one  who  ran  away — who — "  said  Miles, 
halting  in  his  surprise. 

/'Yes,  sah,  my  on'y  son,  sah.  Aint  wuth  tellin'  de 
overseer  'bout  now,  is  he?  We  haint  allers  bin  frien's, 
Gus  en  me  haint ;  but  now  he's  gin  out,  he's  cum 
back  to  his  ole  fader." 

"Don't  waste  time,  father,"  said  the  invalid,  speak- 
ing painfully  but  with  determination.  "Many  and 
many's   the  time  I  begged  to  see  you,  sir,  since  I  first 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  153 

came  here  a  couple  of  months  ago  and  asked  shelter 
from  my  father;  but  he's  put  me  off  till  now." 

"It  was  you  then — that  night  in  the  woods— that 
we  hunted  everywhere  next  day — and  I  was  so  sure 
she  had  imagined  it?"  Miles  asked,  light  breaking  on 
the  confusion  of  his  thoughts. 

"Yes,  sir,  I'd  been  hiding  in  the  swamp,  waitin'  my 
chance  to  get  to  Daddy's  cabin.  I  was  hungry,  and 
had  come  out  to  get  some  nuts,  when  I  heard  voices, 
and  the  dogs,  and  was  afraid  to  stir.  I  never  meant, 
sir,  to  frighten  the  young  lady — indeed,  I  didn't.  The 
minute  I  laid  eyes  on  you,  I  knew  from  the  picture  I 
had  seen,  it  must  be  you,  sir.  Oh !  if  you  had  my 
secret  on  your  soul,  you'd  have  groaned  as  I  did — I 
couldn't  help  it." 

"Why  didn't  you  throw  yourself  upon  my  grand- 
father's mercy?"  said  Miles.  "Whatever  your  secret 
is,  he'd  have  been  kind  to  you." 

"Oh,  sir,  I  didn't  dare!  By  night  and  by  day, 
these  twenty  years  and  more,  I've  carried  it.  It's 
driven  me  to  be  a  thief  and  worse.  My  hands  are 
dipped  in  sin — if  I  had  my  deserts  I'd  be  rotting  now 
in  jail." 

"Come,  come,"  said  Miles.  'This  will  not  help  the 
matter.  I  don't  want  to  hear  about  your  sins.  I  sup- 
pose you  want  me  to  make  your  peace  with  my  grand- 
father; but  I  can  tell  you  he'd  have  been  better  satis- 
fied to  have  you  send  for  him,  direct." 


154  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

"Oh,  can't  you  see,  sir,  I'm  a  dying  man?"  cried 
Gus,  in  anguish.  ''I  couldn't  look  my  kind  old  master 
in  the  face  and  ivant  to  live.  Listen  to  me.  Master 
Miles,  listen  to  every  word  I  speak;  for  it  means  more 
to  you  than  anybody  in  the  world.  And  I  call  on 
God  to  hear  me  that  I'm  speaking  gospel  truth." 

He  raised  his  right  hand  solemnly  in  the  air,  then 
dropped  it  heavily,  racked  by  a  fit  of  coughing  making 
it  impossible  for  him  to  go  on  with  his  recital. 

"Sposen  I  tell  Marse  Miles,  honey,  twel  yo'  git  yo' 
breff  agin,"  said  Daddy  Jack,  who,  perching  himself 
upon  the  foot  of  the  pallet,  had  lost  not  an  expression 
of  Miles's  face.  "It's  a  long  time,  sah,  sence  the  Kun- 
nel  took  dat  journey  to  de  Souf,  and  Gus  went  wid 
him  as  his  walet.  Gus  was  a  fine  young  fellow,  den, 
'en  all  de  gals  mirationin'  him.  He  lub'd  finery, 
mightily,  he  did ;  war  jus'  sot  on  gitten  all  he  could — " 

"Surely  this  can  do  no  good,"  interposed  Miles,  dis- 
gusted. 

"Let  me  speak,  father,"  said  Gus.  "Yes,  sir,  I  had 
rings  on  my  fingers,  money  in  my  pocket,  fine  clothes, 
all  an  indulgent  master  could  give,  but  the  devil 
wouldn't  let  me  be  satisfied.  That  da}^ — after  the 
babies  came  ashore — you  know  the  story.  Master 
Miles,  I  can't  spare  the  breath  to  tell  it  over — I  was 
walking  on  the  beach — I  saw  the  corpse  of  a  woman 
drifting  on  a  spar — I  waded  in  and  tried  to  pull  her 
out — there,  right   around   her  body,  in  full  view,  was 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  155 

strapped  a  belt  full  of  money  and  jewelry  and  a  lady's 
miniature  and  some  papers.  I'd  stole  studs  from 
Master,  sir,  and  dress-shirts  and  handkerchiefs,  before, 
but  never  money.  I  counted  it — five  hundred  in  gold 
there  was,  and  the  diamonds  were  the  biggest  I  ever 
saw — a  necklace  and  earrings,  and  a  splendid  cross  of 
emeralds — oh  !  Master  Miles — forgive  me — they  were 
your  mother's,  sir." 

"Dick's  mother,  you  mean ;  go  on,"  said  Miles,  with 
feverish  eagerness. 

"No,  sir,  I  mean  just  what  I  say.  The  jewels 
belonged  to  Mrs.  Philip  Throckmorton,  the  lady  in 
the  picture,  sir,  the  wife  of  the  Colonel's  only  son, 
who  was  your  father,  Master  Miles,  if  God  calls  me 
to  judgment  while  I  speak!" 

"Good  God !"  said  Miles  hoarsely. 

"I  could  read  and  write,  sir,  and  I  soon  made  out 
what  the  letters  were  about.  The  long  one,  written 
by  Mr.  Philip  to  the  Colonel — said  as  plain  as  day — 
it's  in  my  mind  like  it  was  branded  there — these  are 
his  very  words — 'the  dark  hair  and  rich  coloring  of  my 
baby  boy  must  plead  with  me  for  the  memory  of  his 
Spanish  mother — whom  you  never  saw ;  he  is  her  liv- 
ing image,  as  her  miniature  will  show.'  " 

Miles  heard  the  hoot  of  an  owl  in  the  forest  that 
seemed  to  mock  him.  His  lips  parted,  but  he  could 
not  speak. 

"That   gave   me   the  first  shock,  sir,  for  I  knew  the 


156  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

Colonel  had  settled  as  it  was  the  light-haired  little 
boy  that  was  his  grandson,  along  of  his  likeness  to 
Marse  Phil,  and  the  locket  around  his  neck.  There 
warn't  another  blessed  mark  about  either  child  to  tell 
'em ;  for  I  helped  to  take  'em  both  out  of  the  basket, 
and  me  and  Master  undressed  them  by  ourselves. 
Master  was  bothered  enough  at  first,  but,  when  he 
made  his  mind  up  about  Master  Dick,  he  told  me  that 
was  his  grandson,  and  kissed  and  blessed  him  sol- 
emnly." 

"Go  on,"  said  Miles,  after  a  pause  filled  w^ith  the 
labored  breathing  of  the  sufferer. 

"Those  diamonds,  sir,"  cried  out  Gus,  in  sudden 
anguish,  "they  were  my  ruin.  First,  I  thought  I'd 
give  up  the  miniature  and  letter;  then  I  remembered 
Master  was  on  the  lookout  for  the  belt,  for  the  Consul 
at  Jamaica  had  told  him  in  the  first  letter  what  Mrs. 
Rollins  had — and  these  things  couldn't  have  come  dry, 
ashore,  without  the  belt.  I  hid  all  in  a  hollow  tree 
back  in  the  woods,  and  hurried  up  the  coast,  and  met 
one  of  the  fishermen  who  was  out  looking  for  the 
nurse's  body.  He  gave  m^  good-morning,  and  I  told 
him  I'd  been  walking  in  the  woods.  Pretty  soon  he 
came  hurrying  back  to  say  there  was  a  corpse  ashore, 
and  he  believed  he'd  surely  handle  the  reward  Master 
had  put  up.  He  begged  me  to  notify  my  master, 
while  he  staid  there  and  watched— and  I  ran  back,  and 
told  the  Colonel,  who  never  once  suspected  me.     That 


PLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  157 

was  my  last  day  of  honesty.  I  never  drew  a  free 
breath  again.  When  I  got  back  to  the  plantation  the 
sight  of  the  jewels  that  were  no  use  to  me  were  always 
goading  me  to  run  away  and  go  to  France  where  I'd 
heard  tell  a  black  skin  was  as  good  as  any  white  one. 
I  got  off  safe — 'twarn't  hard  with  such  an  easy  master, 
sir.  He  wouldn't  even  advertise  for  me.  Oh,  Master 
Miles,  tell  him  I've  repented  on  my  knees  the  wrong 
I  did  him,  and  you,  and  Master  Dick !  Those  jewels, 
sir — they're  gone  past  recall.  Oh,  how  I  prayed  for 
strength  to  get  back  here  and  tell  you  all  before  it  was 
too  late!  I'd  ha'  been  before,  sir,  but  I  was  in  jail; 
once  in  France,  and  here  in  America,  too — there's  a 
reward  upon  me,  now — I  broke  jail  to  get  here ;  it  was 
hiding  in  the  marsh  that  was  my  death.  I'd  ha* 
spoken  to  you  that  night.  Master  Miles,  I  think — it 
didn't  seem  to  matter  much  whether  I  lived  or  died — 
but  I  heard  you  say  those  words  about  the  man  .... 
that  sinned  against  the  law  ....  must  be  punished 
by   the   law — " 

Miles,  in  a  tremor  of  anxiety  for  what  was  yet  to 
come,  had  not  dared  to  interrupt  him  by  a  question. 
Now,  to  his  dismay,  he  perceived  that  the  man's 
strength  seemed  suddenly  to  fail.  An  awful  pallor 
came  upon  his  face.  Great  beads  of  sweat  stood  out 
upon  his  brow. 

"I  forgive  you  fully,  Gus,"  he  cried,  leaning  over  and 
speaking  into  a  dying  ear.     "But  the  letter — the   pic- 


15^  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED, 

ture — can't  you  understand  they'd  be  worth  more  to 
me  than  all  the  diamonds  in  the  world." 

"Scuse  me,  Marse  Miles,"  interposed  Daddy  Jack, 
with  terrible  suavity;  "I'm  not  wishin'  to  interrup* 
you,  sah,  but  dat's  jes  de  p'int  whar  I  comes  in  to  dis 
heah  business.  I'll  tell  you,  sah,  bout  dat  ar  letter  and 
picter.  When  'Gustus  run  off  from  dis  plantashun, 
/  followed  him  en  watched  him  hide  'em,  en  /  dug 
*em  up." 

"Give  them  to  me,  you  black  scoundrel,"  cried 
Miles,  furious  at  his  taunting  tones. 

"I  tole  Gus  twarn'  no  use  lettin'  Marse  Miles  know 
he  was  de  Kunnel's  gran'son  zvidout  de  proof,''  went 
on  Daddy  Jack,  unmoved ;  "Gus'll  tell  you  I  said  tw'd 
des  unsottle  you." 

"Give  them  to  me,  I  tell  you." 

"Dat  time  wen  you  wos  a  little  sassy  shaver,  mock- 
ing pore  ole  Daddy  Jack,  tink  I  didn't  put  de  letter 
en  de  pictur,  whar  you'd  nebber  find  'em,"  said  the 
African,  his  face  working  with  a  fury  gradually  break- 
ing bounds.  "Dey's  hid  deeper'n  dead  men's  bones — 
whar  I'd  ha  put  you  long  ago,  but  I  know'd  dis  day 
would  come." 

"I'll  give  you  one  chance  more,"  said  the  young 
man,  "and  if  you  surrender  my  stolen  property,  I'll  let 
both  of  you  go  in  peace.  If  not — and  I  believe 
there's  no  dealing  with  a  snake  like  you — by  the 
Lord,  I'll  strangle  you." 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.    .  159 

"He  wants  to  git  de  pooty  lady  stid  o'  Marse 
Dick—"  sneered  Daddy  Jack. 

With  a  bound,  Miles  sprang  across  the  room  and 
seized  the  negro  by  the  throat.  Jack  fastened  upon 
his  limbs  with  astonishing  activity,  but  the  grip  Miles 
had  on  him  was  irresistible  and,  blind  with  passion,  he 
shook  the  old  man  as  a  terrier  shakes  a  rat. 

There  was  a  shrill  cry  from  the  bed.  Gus,  drawing 
himself  up  to  lean  upon  one  elbow,  called  out  implor- 
ingly: 

"Daddy!     Master  Miles!  for  God's  sake  let  him  go. 
Lean  down,  sir.     Listen.     I've  got  more  to  tell  you  yet." 
Miles  loosed  his  hold— hurling  Jack  across  the  foot 
of  the  bed,  where  he  lay  stunned  and  motionless. 
"Oh,  sir,  he's  not — ?" 
"He's  not  hurt,"  said  Miles  grimly. 
"Thank    the    Lord,"    Gustus    whispered    painfully. 
"Oh,  sir,  it's  dreadf-ul  how  he's  always  hated  you  I     I 
had  to  humor  him  by  letting  him  think  he  had  this 
safe.     But— I  stole  it   back— quick,  sir,  quick,  you  can 
never  tell  what  mischief  he'll  be  up  to." 

His  feeble  fingers  thrust  into  Miles's  clasp  a  packet 
sewn  in  kid.  It  was  the  last  effort  of  his  strength. 
With  a  prayer  for  mercy  on  his  lips,  the  thief  fell  back 
and  ceased  to  breathe.  When  Daddy  Jack  became 
aware  of  the  change,  he  threw  himself  upon  the  corpse 
with  frantic  cries,  appearing  not  to  know  that  Miles 
was  present. 


l6o  PLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

The  young  man,  after  waiting  undecided  for  a  time, 
left  the  father  with  his  dead.  Tarry  within  the  loath- 
some den  he  could  not,  but,  lifting  the  bar,  went  out 
under  the  pale  skies  that  preluded  the  Christmas 
dawn. 

Strange  anomaly  of  negro  nature,  however  degraded, 
that  finds  an  outlet  for  all  emotions  in  the  utterance 
of  religious  aspiration !  From  the  cabin  loft  floated 
the  words  of  the  hymn : 

"  There  is  a  foun-tain  filled  with  blood 
Drawn  from — Emman-uel's  veins, 
And  sin-ners  plunged  beneath  that  flood 
Lose  all — their  guilty  stains. 

The  dy-ing  thief — rejoiced  to  see 

That  foun-tain  in  his  day, 
Oh  !  may  not  I — as  vile  as  he — 

Wash  all — my  sins — away  !  " 

"The  old  scoundrel,"  thought  Miles.  "He'll  be 
back  to-morrow  at  his  old  tricks;  what  I've  got  to  do 
is  to  look  sharp  when  he  discovers  he  has  been  out- 
witted." 

Dizzy,  and  heedless  of  his  steps,  he  followed  the  tun- 
nel in  the  pines  out  to  the  quarter  road.  In  the  cabins 
all  was  silent ;  except  by  the  ailing  or  the  youngest 
children  they  were  deserted.  All  night  the  revels  of 
the  barbacue  had  kept  up.  Over  fires  of  corncobs, 
built  in  shallow  pits,  hung  the  carcasses  of  sheep  and 
hogs,  while  around  them  capered  dark  forms,  singing, 
yelling,  the   scene   suggesting   some   barbaric   human 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  i6l 

sacrifice.  From  such  occasions,  it  seemed  that  these 
sons  and  daughters  of  far  Africa  had  but  one  step  to 
make  backward  into  the  condition  of  their  forefathers. 
Skirting  the  pine  knoll  on  whose  bare  summit  the 
feasting  was  in  progress,  Miles,  too  absorbed  in  his 
own  reflections  to  give  heed  to  aught  beside,  hesitated 
upon  the  threshold  of  the  house.  He  shrank  from  the 
room  he  had  been  expected  to  share  with  Dick.  The 
mere  thought  of  Dick  affected  him  as  if  a  cold  hand 
were  laid  upon  his  beating  heart.  Remembering  the 
old  school-room  was  easily  entered  through  doors 
never  locked,  he  found  his  way  into  its  dark  interior. 
From  a  basket  of  pine  cones  and  twigs  upon  the 
hearth,  he  built  a-  fire,  and  at  the  quick  blaze,  mounting 
up  in  the  cavernous  chimney,  warmed  his  fingers  still 
clinging  to  the  packet  which  remained  to  convince  him 
that  he  had  not  dreamed  an  evil  dream.  Tossed  be- 
tween hope  and  fear  that  he  had  been  deceived,  dread- 
ing yet  longing  to  open  it,  he  turned  over  and  over  the 
worn,  soiled  object ;  and  at  last,  with  an  impetuous 
movement,  cut  with  his  pocket-knife  the  stitches  that 
confined  it,  and  threw  with  disgust  the  outer  envelope 
into  the  fire. 

*Ts  it  my  future  and  Dick's  that  I  have  here?"  he 
wondered,  still  hesitating. 

Then,  with  impatience  at  the  cowardice  of  his  own 
delay,  he  unfolded  the  tissue-paper  wrapped  in  many 
thicknesses  about  the  contents,  and  within,  incased  in 


1 62  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

cotton-wool,  found  a  miniature  and  a  letter.  As  he 
slanted  the  glass  covering  the  picture,  to  catch  the 
proper  light,  Miles  uttered  an  exclamation — refined, 
softened  into  the  lines  of  womanly  beauty,  it  was  yet 
unmistakably  his  own  face.  On  the  reverse  of  the 
medallion  were  engraved  these  words,  in  Spanish  : 

"To  my  beloved  husband,  Philip,  from  his  wife  Eu- 
phrasia, this  picture  of  herself,  on  the  birthday  of  their 
son,  Richard  Miles  Throckmorton,  May  25th,  183-" 

"Richard  Miles,''  he  thought;  "then  at  least  I  have 
had  my  rightful  name." 

Crowding  under  durance  of  his  will  the  ugly  demons 
that  were  already  swarming  to  his  soul,  he  lifted  the 
thin  sheet  of  foreign  paper,  and  unfolded  it — the  letter 
written  by  poor  Philip  after  his  wife's  death  of  the 
pestilence,  and  in  face  of  the  risk  of  the  same  fate  for 
himself — the  letter  for  which  the  dear  Colonel  had 
spent  so  many  yearning  moments  of  regret,  which 
would  have  made  so  vast  a  difference  in  Miles's  lot  in 
life  had  it  but  reached  its  destination  in  due  time ! 

In  reading  it.  Miles  was  conscious  of  intrusion  as 
into  a  sanctuary.  It  was  a  boy's  outpouring  of  peni- 
tence for  pain  given  to  a  beloved  parent,  of  hope  for 
the  future,  framed  in  words  meant  for  the  loving  eyes 
of  one  alone.  It  struck  Miles  as  so  very  curious  that 
the  writer  had  been  but  twenty-three  years  old — but  a 
little  older  than  himself,  and  yet  a  husband  sorrowing 


FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED.  1 63 

for  a  lost  wife,  a  father  pleading  for  his  child.  It  soft- 
ened his  heart  not  only  to  the  shadowy  image  of  Philip 
Throckmorton,  but  to  feel  the  first  throb  of  filial  love 
he  had  experienced.  There  was  something  exquisite 
and  yet  poignant  in  this  tenderness  that  rose  up  from 
far  distant  graves,  and  fell  on  his  bruised  spirit  like 
a  balm.  Was  not  this  what  the  hurt  child  feels  whose 
heart  is  lightened  because  his  father  has  kissed  his 
tears  away,  although  the  pain  endures?  Miles's  eyes 
moistened  more  than  once  during  the  reading  which 
made  him  aware  of  hopes  and  plans  for  his  future 
conceived  so  fondly  and  so  unavailingly. 

There  was  no  room  to  doubt  the  accuracy  of  the 
statement  Gus  had  made.  The  jewels,  as  described — 
by  him,  were  enumerated,  the  miniature  identified— 
here  were  the  very  words  gasped  by  the  thief  in 
dying : 

''  ...  the  dark  hair  a^id  rich  coloring  of  7ny  baby 
boy  must  plead  with  me  for  the  memory  of  his  Span- 
ish mother  whom  you  7iever  saw — he  is  her  living 
image,  as  her  miniature  ivill  show.  He  will  be  hot 
tempered  and  impetuous,  but  easily  swayed  by  love. 
If  I  read  my  son  aright,  you  will  have  no  cause  to 
blush  for  your  successor.  Oh !  that  it  may  be  that 
what  I  dread  may  never  come  to  pass  and  that  I, 
myself,  may  place  him  in  your  arms  ....  Tom's 
boy  is  healthy  and  sweet-tempered.  With  his  fair 
locks,  and  unusually  light  blue  eyes,  he  repeats  his 
little  New  England  mother,  showing  no  trace  of  poor 


1 64  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

Tom.  The  two  came  to  us  for  a  visit  when  Tom 
sailed  away.  When  the  news  arrived  of  his  loss  at 
sea,  of  course  my  home  was  theirs — you  know  I  loved 
Tom  dearly,  spite  of  all  his  faults ;  and  it  was  because 
I  was  here  he  came  over  to  Jamaica  and  took  a  turn 
at  sugar-planting  (a  failure,  need  I  say  it,  like  the 
rest).  Mrs.  Tom,  poor  little  thing,  sickened  the  day 
before  my  Euphrasie — they  were  buried  together.  At 
the  first  approach  of  the  epidemic  we  had  sent  away 
the  children  in  the  care  of  the  faithful  Englishwoman, 
a  soldier's  widow,  who  will — if  I  do  not — place  them 
in  your  hands.  To  Jane  Rollins,  who  is  thoroughly 
trustworthy,  I  have  confided  the  valuables  you  know 
of,  and  she  will  also  consign  to  you  this  letter.  I 
assured  Mrs.  Tom  that  I  could  depend  upon  your 
welcome  of  her  child.  Choosing  to  fancy  me  her 
benefactor,  she,  with  her  own  hands,  hung  around  her 
baby's  neck  a  little  picture  of  me  which  she  begged 
Mrs.  Rollins  not  to  take  off.  Who  better  than  I,  my 
dearest  dad,  knows  that  your  heart  is  big  enough  for 
two?  Oh,  if  I  could  sweep  away  the  cloud  that  lies 
between  us — could,  face  to  face,  tell  you  all  these 
things — !  ....  Tom's  baby,  also,  is  called  Richard 
Miles.  In  our  family,  we  seem  to  have  a  passion  for 
repeating  the  same  names.  Knowing  your  objection 
to  having  children  called  after  living  sponsors,  I  have 
decided  on  giving  my  fellow,  for  everyday  use,  his  sec- 
ond name  of  Miles.  How  far  back  it  goes  in  our  line, 
doesn't  it?  A  good,  square,  straightforward  name, 
that  none  but  a  straightforward  man  should  bear. 
But  Richard,  I  love  best — Richard-the-Lion-Heart- 
Throckmorton,  as  I  remember  scrawling  in  a  book   of 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  165 

yours  one  day,  and  almost  getting  licked  for  it.  Dear 
old  days! — dear  father, — my  heart  melts  like  a  wo- 
man's as  I  write.  By  Jove,  though,  this  letter's  as  full 
of  hearts  as  a  valentine.  I  must  brace  up  and  look 
on  the  bright  side  of  our  possible  reunion.  Glancing 
at  the  date  of  this,  I  find  I  was  twenty-three  last 
week!  Think  of  it  will  you?  What  an  old  fellow, 
and  you  a  grandfather!  God  send  the  rest  of  my  life 
may  be  spent  on  the  old  plantation  side  by  side  with 
my  father,  who  now,  and  always,  has  the  love  and  duty 

of  his  son, 

Philip  Miles  Throckmorton. 

After  he  had  read  for  a  second  time  the  entire  let- 
ter, and  had  laid  it  down,  Miles  felt  a  lump  swelling  in 
his  throat.  His  first  impulse  was  to  knock  boldly  at 
the  door  of  his  grandfather's  room,  and  walk  into 
it,    head     erect,    proclaiming    his    discovery    and    his 

proofs It  was  broad  day  when  he  started  from 

his  reverie  to  find  his  fire  gone  out  and  his  limbs 
cramped.  But  he  heeded  not  these  things,  for  the 
notion  that  was  tugging  at  his  heartstrings  and  vexed 
him  sorely  and  yet  would  not  leave  him.  Goaded  by 
it,  he  went  out  again  and  tried  by  active  exercise  to 
rid  himself  of  the  unwelcome  guest  that  had  found  a 
lodgment,  now,  to  stay.  He  took  his  trouble  to  the 
woods  as  he  had  done  many  a  time  before.  Like  a 
stag  flying  to  green  glades  with  the  arrow  sticking  in 
his  side,  the  poor  boy  rushed  through  the  under- 
growth,   crackling   and  rending    thorny    thickets,    and 


1 66  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

never  pausing  till  he  came  to  a  spot  remote  from  the 
haunts  of  man. 

It  was  a  beautiful  place,  as  green  almost  as  in  sum- 
mer, with  clumps  of  laurel  and  arbor  vitae  and  cedar  all 
about.  The  hollies  here,  growing  to  great  height  and 
breadth,  and  covered  with  crimson  berries,  were  like 
blazing  lamps  in  the  forest.  Every  tuft  and  twig  had 
its  coating  of  hoar  frost,  and  the  morning  air  was 
wondrously  clear  and  still,  filling  the  lungs  with  exhila- 
ration. Miles  knelt  down  and  drank  at  a  little 
stream  tinkling  under  green  moss  and  dead  leaves, 
and  laved  his  head  and  felt  refreshed.  He  looked  up 
and  saw  on  the  bough  of  an  oak  high  above  a  splen- 
did cluster  of  gray-green  mistletoe  with  pearly  berries, 
and  the  old  boyish  desire  to  climb  and  fetch  it  down 
for  grandmamma,  came  over  him.  A  rabbit,  skurrying 
by,  made  him  wonder  if  Dick  had  been  to  see  the 
traps — it  was  Dick's  day  to  go  yesterday,  and — Miles 
laughed  aloud — in  the  woods  at  Flower  de  Hundred 
a  man  could  never  grow  old !  Surely  this  was  the 
tree, — yes,  of  course  it  was, — he  knew  that  odd  bulge, 
midway  on  a  branch,  so  difficult  to  get  over — whence 
he  had  tumbled  the  day  he  sprained  his  knee  and 
shoulder.  They  had  set  out,  Dick  and  he,  with  the 
cart  and  mule  and  old  Jock,  to  pick  mistletoe  for 
Christmas  ten  years  back,  and,  straying  away  from 
Jock,  had  come  upon  this  tree,  as  tempting  then  as 
now.     Miles   volunteered    to    "shin"    it,  though   Dick 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  167 

warned  him  of  its  unusual  height.  After  a  tough 
cHmb  he  had  seized  the  bunch  and  started  to  descend. 
A  Hmb,  betraying  his  keen  sight,  broke  under  him,  and 
down  he  crashed  to  earth,  clutching  the  mistletoe 
through  all.  Dick's  face,  when  he  got  his  wind  again 
and  lay  there  squeezing  down  the  groans,  he  never 
could  forget — so  dirty,  tear-stained,  wretched,  full  of 
yearning  love  !  What  an  affectionate  little  kid  Dick  was 
to  be  sure !  How  he'd  rolled  his  jacket  up,  and  put  it 
under  the  sufferer's  head,  who  fainted  before  Dick 
had  gone  far  on  the  way  to  get  old  Jock  and  the  cart. 
When  Dick  returned  and  found  him  senseless,  and 
believed  him  dead — "his  mo'nin  wud  a  bruk  yer  heart 

to  see,"  said  Jock  to  Judy So  it  had  ever  been 

.  ...  to  the  rest  of  the  world  Dick  ranked  first— 
to  Dick,  Miles  !  And  now,  without  premonition,  had 
come  into  Miles's  life — that,  halting,  stumbling  in 
achievement  as  it  had  been,  was  yet  full  of  generous 
impulse  and  on  the  threshold  of  a  broader  sphere  of 
manly  action — the  greatest  opportunity  his  mind 
could  conceive  to  prove  the  love  he  bore  Dick  in 
return.  It  was  that  thought  which  goaded  him  and 
drove  him,  and  would  not  let  him  rest.  ,  For  Dick's 
sake  he  had  renounced  his  chance  with  Bonnibel ;  Dick 
might  never  know  it,  even  the  dear  grandfather  had 
but  half  guessed  at  the  wrench  it  cost  him ;  but  it  was 
done,  and  his  unworthy  passion,  in  its  final  throes  the 
night  before,  shamed   him   now  to   think  about.     Of 


l68  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

what  value  the  sacrifice,  if  he  were  to  take  the  ground 
from  under  Dick's  feet,  to  rob  him  of  place  and  for- 
tune, to  cover  him  with  the  odium  of  having  filled  a 
false  position  before  the  world,  to  set  the  thousand 
tongues  of  gossip  wagging,  and  rend  away  forever  from 
their  peaceful  home  its  veil  of  privacy?  Next  came 
also  to  torment  him  the  idea  that  some  things  are  not 
easy  to  do  in  cold  blood.  When,  now,  after  delibera- 
tion, it  had  reached  the  point  of  revealing  his  news  to 
the  family,  the  poor  fellow  absolutely  shuddered  and 
drew  back  as  from  a  dishonorable  action.  What  in  the 
first  flush  of  triumph  he  had  called  his  right,  seemed 
to  him  a  thing  that  it  would  be  rather  sneaking  to 
stretch  out  his  hand  to  take.  It  is,  indeed,  never  cer- 
tain that  a  break  is  welcome  in  any  long-settled  and 
not  unpleasant  habit.  That  this  law  of  routine  which 
rules  us  inexorably  might  make  everybody  in  the 
household  wish  he  had  held  his  peace,  suggested  itself 
in  the  most  matter  of  fact  fashion,  and  dashed  his  hero- 
ism as  with  an  icy  shower.  There  was  one  point  over 
which  Miles  struggled  long  and  distressfully.  Had  he 
also  the  right  to  withhold  from  his  grandfather  the  let- 
ter, so  precious  in  his  eyes?  At  this,  the  tenderness 
put  to  flight  by  cold  calculation  came  back  and  filled 
the  eyes  of  the  lonely  boy  with  honest  tears. 

When  he  came  out  of  the  woods  Miles  had  quite 
made  up  his  mind  what  it  was  best  for  him  to  do. 
The  sun  was  shining,  the  plantation  was  noisy  with 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  169 

cries  of  "I  ketch  you  Christmas  gif ,"  and  when  sleepy 
Dick  awoke  it  was  to  find  Miles  fully  dressed,  and 
smiling  down  upon  him  with  something  more  than 
mere  Christmas  brightness  in  his  face. 

"Christmas  gift !"  said  Dick  drowsily. 

"All  right,  old  man,  I'll  pay  up,"  Miles  answered. 

Directly  after  breakfast  was  observed  the  ceremony 
of  distributing  gifts  to  the  quarter,  the  negroes  in  gala- 
array  assembling  at  the  "Gret  Hus"  to  receive  their 
dole.  Then  the  house-party  walked  across  a  field  path 
to  the  little  church  where  Cousin  Polly  Lightfoot  kept 
everything  in  charge  except  the  rector,  who  assisted 
her  in  the  matter  of  chancel  decorations,  and  the  black 
velvet  alms-pouch  attached  to  a  long  pole,  which  it 
was  the  Colonel's  duty  to  pass  among  the  worshipers. 
The  quaint  old  pew,  built  for  the  family,  was  a  sort 
of  curtained  gallery,  relinquished  long  since  for  one  in 
the  body  of  the  church.  The  little  Colonial  edifice, 
erected  in  the  form  of  a  cross,  with  massive  walls,  a 
roof  shingled  with  juniper,  and  a  flagging  of  freestone, 
had  well  resisted  Time.  The  graceful  arches,  the  pul- 
pit hanging  apparently  like  an  oriole's  nest  in  mid-air, 
the  silver  chalice  and  paten  presented  by  Queen  Anne, 
and  the  tablets,  with  inscriptions  in  Latin  and  armorial 
bearings  that  were  set  round  the  walls,  spoke  of  old 
times  more  glorious  to  state  than  church ;  for  there 
was  a  legend  that  one  of  the  earliest  rectors  had 
preached  a  sermon  here  in  pink  and  spurs  under  his 


11  o  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

gown,  and  after  service  had  carried  a  challenge  from 
one  to  another  of  his  parishioners  to  fight  a  duel ! 

The  Colonel,  seated  between  Dick  and  Bonnibel, 
looked  reverently  happy.  More  than  once  his  eyes 
were  observed  to  wander  in  the  direction  of  the  slab 
recording  the  names  of  Mildred  "Wife  of  Richard 
Throckmorton,"  and  of  Philip,  "their  beloved  Son," 
and  his  lips  to  move  as  if  in  prayer.  Miles,  who  sat 
facing  them,  thought  the  beautiful  peace  on  his  grand- 
father's face  a  better  sermon  than  any  that  could  be 
preached  to  him  from  the  pulpit.  It  gave  him 
strength  to  do  what  was  yet  to  be  done.  And  it  made 
him  feel  there  is  a  possession  worth  more  to  a  man 
than  a  goodly  heritage  in  lands. 

The  Christmas  ball  at  Flower  de  Hundred,  since 
spoken  of  as  "the  last  before  the  wah,"  came  off  with 
due  eclat.  Old  Saul,  who  kept  together  the  traditions 
of  former  festivities,  announced  that  this  one  exceeded 
its  predecessors  as  one  star  surpasseth  another  in 
splendor,  chiefly  because  "  'taint  ebbry  day  de  planta- 
tion sees  a  bride  like  Miss  Bonnibel  lead  de  Virginny 
reel  wid  a  groom  like  Marse  Dick."  The  old  butler  did 
not,  however,  carry  an  entirely  light  heart  into  the 
festivities.  On  the  return  of  the  family  from  church, 
he  had  met  them  with  the  starthng  announcement 
that  Daddy  Jack's  cabin  had  been  burnt  out  in  the 
night,  and  the  old  man  had  disappeared.  No  trace 
was  found  of  him  in  the  square    of  blackened    earth 


FLOWER   DE  HUNDRED.  17 1 

under  the  ruins.  Miles,  who  went  with  the  other  men 
of  the  household  to  satisfy  himself  upon  this  point, 
felt  convinced  that  the  old  reprobate  had,  upon  dis- 
covering his  loss,  in  a  frenzy  of  bafifled  rage  fired  his 
cabin  and  escaped  into  the  swamp  carrying  the  body 
of  his  son.  However  that  may  be,  Daddy  Jack  was 
never  seen  again  in  his  old  haunts,  and  the  negroes 
did  not  hesitate  to  believe  that  he  had  gone  off  with 
his  comrade,  the  night-doctor,  on  a  blast  of  wind  which, 
as  they  averred,  had  arisen  and  departed  in  the  hour 
before  daybreak. 

This  circumstance  was  coupled  with  another  of 
equal  portent  in  Saul's  mind.  When  he  had  come  into 
the  hall  that  morning  early,  he  had  for  the  first  time 
in  his  memory  found  the  Yule-log  gray  and  cold,  with 
not  a  spark  remaining  to  prophesy  good  fortune  to 
Flower  de  Hundred  during  the  coming  year  I 

Old  Guy  the  founder,  and  Lady  Mary,  and  the 
other  silent  guardians  enframed  in  wild  wood  green- 
ery, must  have  been  satisfied  with  the  pleasant  aspect 
of  affairs !  To  outward  view  there  was  not  a  cloud 
upon  the  scene.  The  quadrilles,— cotillions,  they 
called  them, — more  in  vogue  than  waltz  or  polka,  were 
danced  under  the  dominion  of  black  Caesar  in  a  high 
stock,  standing  collar,  blue  coat  with  brass  buttons, 
nankeen  breeches,  and  pumps  dating  fifty  years  back, 
fragrant  of  the  camphor  of  old  Sabra's  chest.  He 
played  first  fiddle  in  every  sense,  shouting  at  intervals, 


172  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

''Forward  en  back!  Balance  to  yerpardners!  Right 
en  lef  through  !  Ladies  change  !  Sachay  !  Balancay  ! 
Now !  den !  Han's  all  roun'."  The  dark  faces  look- 
ing in  at  every  door  and  window  were  to  the  full  as 
much  impressed  by  Caesar  swaying  the  multitude  as 
by  the  white  folks'  show.  When  the  reel  was  danced 
Caesar  rose  to  concert  pitch  of  excitement.  He 
waved,  scraped,  shouted,  made  his  fiddle  sing.  He 
was  no  more  to  be  resisted  than  the  Pied  Piper  of 
Hamelin.  His  jolly  visage  shone  with  glee  and  per- 
spiration. Mrs.  Sehna  Ackley  in  a  Bayadere  magenta 
silk,  with  ringlets  and  a  scarf,  hung  her  head  to  one 
side,  held  her  skirts  out  and,  like  Cherubina  de  Wil- 
loughby,  "danced  up  insidious"  to  meet  Miles.  Mrs. 
Hazleton  had  captured  Mr.  Crabtree  for  her  partner, 
and,  having  once  consented,  the  Parson  put  conscience 
into  his  work.  Solemn,  painstaking,  he  revived  by- 
gone steps,  and  even  cut  a  rusty  pigeon's  wing. 
Tabby,  losing  her  breath  at  the  outset,  made  no 
attempt  to  regain  it,  but  puffed  down  the  middle  and 
panted  back,  her  cap  askew,  her  gown  of  changeable 
silk  ballooning,  her  face  beaming  with  fun.  Old  Tom, 
dancing  with  handsome  Mrs.  Willis,  had  put  on  his 
best  spirits  with  the  ruffled  shirt  and  hair  brooch 
reserved  for  balls  and  weddings.  The  only  fly  in  his 
ointment  was  that  Vashti  had  made  him  wear  a  titil- 
lating plaster  on  his  chest,  and  a  bit  of  red  flannel 
around  his  throat.     He  1  new  the  one  was  beginning 


PLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  173 

to   burn   him   like   the   deuce,  and   he  was   afraid   the 
other  would  'Vide  up"  into  sight  above  his  stock. 

Bonnibel,  in  white  "Swiss,"  with  cape-jasmines  in 
her  hair,  and  Ursula,  in  white  too  (her  first  frock  that 
"touched"),  with  a  cherry  sash  and  topknot,  throwing 
themselves  into  the  spirit  of  the  scene;  Dick,  feeling 
that  life  could  hold  only  one  moment  happier  for  him. 
than  this;  Miles,  dark,  handsome,  carrying  his  head 
erect,  adored  by  the  girls  who  shared  his  favors  evenly ; 
Cousin  Polly,  footing  it  with  the  best  of  them ;  the  gay 
girls  and  stalwart  youths,  kinsmen,  neighbors,  friends, 
who  made  up  the  company, — as  I  write  they  seem  to 
join  hands  in  a  dizzy  round,  before  vanishing  into  the 
shadows  of  the  war ! 

And  now  the  ball  is  over,  the  dancers  scattered ! 
Old  Saul  goes  about  putting  out  Christmas  candles, 
banking  ashes  on  the  fires.  Good-night  to  Flower  de 
Hundred!     Good-bye  to  happy  days ! 


CHAPTER  VI. 

In  the  spring  of  i860,  on  the  mountains  that  looked 
upon  Palermo  as  Palermo,  couched  on  her  "golden 
shell,"  looked  on  the  sea,  had  gathered  the  little  army 
of  a  patriot-chief,  waiting  his  order  to  swoop  to  rescue 
of  the  town  from  Bourbon  rule.  Their  camp  life  was 
of  the  roughest.  As  Garibaldi  fared,  so  fared  they. 
But  they  were  all — officers,  soldiers,  priests,  guides — 
united  in  a  tremendous  purpose,  that  made  them 
brothers,  and  the  hardships  of  every  day  a  mere  tale  to 
tell  to  future  generations  of  the  children  of  free  Sicily. 

One  May  morning  during  the  period  of  enforced 
quiet  before  the  descent  upon  the  town,  a  young 
volunteer  sat  apart  from  the  others  engaged  in  writing 
upon  leaves  torn  from  his  pocket-book.  His  desk  was 
the  guacho  saddle  which  served  also  as  a  pillow  to  the 
sheepskin  stretched  on  the  grass,  where  by  night  he 
dreamed  under  the  stars.  He  was  dark  and  pictur- 
esque enough  to  be  an  Andalusian ;  so  said,  at  least, 
Frate  Leone,  a  jolly,  fighting  monk  who  made  one  of 
the  expedition,  and  was  his  especial  chum.  The  Sicil- 
ian compromised  with  his  first  astonishment  over  his 
friend's  assertion  that  he  was  an  American,  by  saying, 
"American?  Oh,  yes,  but  it  is  South  Americans  you 
are    who   call    yourselves    Virginians ;     that    explains 

174 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  175 

your    looks,    my   son,    and    makes    you    so    much    at 
home  among  us  Latins." 

Frate  Leone,  basking  hke  a  Hzard  in  the  sun,  waits 
for  the  conclusion  of  the  young  man's  letter.  We, 
who  need  not  stand  on  ceremony,  may  follow  his  pen- 
cil as  it  flies. 

"Yes,  it  is  you,  my  dear  staunch  little  cousin,  who 
have  earned  the  right  to  my  last  long  letter  before  the 
next  move  forward  in  our  glorious  campaign — and  if  I 
fall  before  Palermo  you  will  know  what  store  I  set  by 
the  charming  budget  of  home  news  you  have  given 
me  in  your  inimitable  way — for,  young  as  you  are,  my 
dear,  you  have  already  the  light  touch,  inspired  by  a 
warm  heart,  that  creates  the  ideal  woman's  letter. 
Why,  only  to  re-read  it  just  now,  and  shut  my  eyes, 
carried  me  back  to  old  Virginny's  shore,  and  I  could 
smell  the  magnolia  blooms, — they  are  passing  now,  and 
all  the  other  trees  upon  the  river  lawn  are  shaking  out 
their  censers, — and  every  day  the  darling  little  Madam 
goes  out  in  her  chair  between  the  box  hedges  and 
notes  how  this  honeysuckle  is  encroaching  over  every- 
thing, and  says  the  pink  daily  rose  must  really  not  be 
allowed  to  cover  the  poor  old  smoke-tree  with  its  blos- 
soms— and  her  little  black  charioteer  picks  calycanthus 
shrubs  and  bruises  them  to  smell,  working  his  toes  in 
the  warm  sand  of  the  walks.  You  ride  with  grand- 
father to  see  the  sheep  shorn — foolish,  struggling 
things,  resisting  capture  till  overpowered,  and  held 
prone,  while  Caesar  drives  his  sharp  shears  around  so 
skillfully  that  the  fleece  turns  back  like  a  lady's 
glove — and    they     emerge     mincing    and    sidling   and 


iy^  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

afraid  to  walk — **lawk-a-mercy  on  me,  can  this  be  I.** 
Then,  far  away  on  the  other  side  of  the  field,  huddled 
in   a  whitey  yellow  blur  upon   the  green,   they   espy 
their  comrades — sure   enough,  it  is  fashionable   to  go 
without   overcoats — and   off,  bleating  and  running,  in 
staggers  at  first,  then  swift  as  the  wind   to  join   the 
rest ! — And  this  is  only  a  little  part  of  the  long  May 
day's  delights!     There  is  nothing  too  small  to  interest 
me  as  to  the  place  and   people.     I   have  devoured  all 
you  say  about  the  gray  mare's  colt  and   the  big  stur- 
geon Jock  caught,  and  Fuzzy  Top's  chickens;  and  I 
congratulate   you    heartily    that    the    powers   that    be 
have   decided    to   let    Mademoiselle    go    back    to    live 
with    her   sister    in    France.     You    wont    be    a   model 
young  lady,  Nutty,  unless  you   encourage   their  send- 
ing you   to  a   finishing  school   in  Richmond   or   Balti- 
more.    But,  bless  me !  I  for  one,  don't  want  you  fin- 
ished.    If  it  is  what  you  are  now,  I  think  I  prefer  you 
half-done!     Get  Parson  Crabtree  to  suggest  books  for 
you  to  read,  and   to  have  an  eye  to  your  Latin  and 
mathematics.     Nutty,  a  hundred   times  I've   thought 
of  your  brave,  pale  little  face  the  day  I  came  away. 
You    were    off   by    yourself   upon    the  wharf.     There 
were  no   tears  in  any  eyes  but  yours — it  warmed  my 
heart  that  was  like  a  stone  inside  of  me.      And  though 
I've  never  said   anything   about  your  coming   to  my 
side  that  Christmas  eve,  you  must  not  think  I  did  not 
understand.     Some   day  you'll   be  the    sunshine   of  a 
good  man's   life.     If  he's  not  good  enough  for  you,  I 
think  I'll  throttle  him.     There  are  only  two  good  men, 
and  they  are  my  grandfather  and  Dick.     You  ask  if  I 
am  happy.     Aye,  that  am  I,  it  is  the  life  I  was  born 


FLOWER  BE  HUNDRED.  1 77 

for,  and  I  wouldn't  give  it  up  for  a  king's  ransom. 
After  knocking  about  in  the  East  as  you  know,  and 
happening  in  for  a  nice  little  scrimmage  with  seventy 
Arabs,  who  set  on  our  party  of  less  than  twenty  men, 
on  our  way  from  Jericho, — my  grandfather  will  have 
had  the  letter  telling  this, — I  loafed  around  awhile  in 
Greece — the  most  perfect  atmosphere  in  all  the 
world — and  then,  Italy  and  Garibaldi!  I'm  only  a 
private  in  his  ranks,  but  that's  enough  for  me.  Such 
a  man !  I  feel  as  if  my  pencil  would  tear  the  paper  to 
tatters  if  I  went  to  saying  what  I  think.  He's  taken 
notice  of  me  and  made  me  a  sort  of  a  scout  already, 
with  a  horse  to  ride,  and  he  never  passes  me  without 
a  kind  word  for  America. 

"We  are  camped  upon  the  hills  above  Palermo,  and 
any  day  may  descend  upon  the  town.  Our  tents  are 
blankets  stretched  over  lances  stuck  into  the  ground. 
Our  fare  a  calf  stewed  with  onions,  with  the  black 
bread  of  these  peasants,  and  we  drink  the  native  wine. 
(This  is  not  to  say  I  wouldn't  be  after  fancying  a  cut 
of  one  of  the  Honey  Hall  hams,  or  a  pot  of  blackberry 
jam,  you'll  please  to  understand!)  Happy?  Who 
wouldn't  be?  Such  a  glorious  view  of  sea  and  moun- 
tain tops  before  me,  as  I  scribble.  Such  clear  air, 
such  merry  company!  There,  I  must  stop,  but  I'll 
take  it  up  again  to-morrow.  One  thing,  though — that 
packet  I  left  with  you — ^remember,  if  I  die,  you  are  to 
open  it,  and  then  do  with  it  what  you  like — and  I 
must  not  forget  to  say  here  that  I  got  Dick's  note, 
saying  his  wedding  day  was  set  for  April — " 

"What  is  it  that  has  stung  you,  my  son?"  cries  out 
the  good  brother,  stirred  from  his  repose. 


178  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED, 

**Me?     Nothing!"  says  the  Other. 

But  he  writes  no  more  that  day ;  and  at  dawn  upon 
the  morrow  the  little  army  creeps  down  the  rocky 
stairway  of  the  hills  and  catches  the  sleeping  city 
unawares.  As  the  Bourbons  retreat,  and  all  the  for- 
eigners in  town  take  to  their  ships  lying  in  the  offing, 
amid  fire  and  smoke,  but  with  little  bloodshed,  Gari- 
baldi enters  into  possession  of  his  prize. 

Here,  it  has  been  said,  began  the  epic  of  the  Gari- 
baldian  legend.  The  Palermese,  looking  upon  the 
hero  as  an  angel  sent  by  God  to  their  relief,  sur- 
rounded him,  kissing  his  garments,  hailing  him  as 
deliverer.  For  a  couple  of  days  thereafter,  the 
bombarding  from  the  ships  kept  them  busy;  but 
when  that  ceased  Palermo  belonged  once  more  to 
Sicily,  and  Garbaldi  assumed  the  dictatorship  of  the 
island. 

The  letters  from  Miles  to  his  family,  after  this, 
were  necessarily  infrequent.  The  summer's  campaign, 
which  was  like  a  march  of  triumph,  kept  his  blood  at 
fever  heat,  his  thoughts  concentrated  on  the  fortunes 
of  the  hour. 

After  the  battle  of  Melazzo,  a  letter  was  written  for, 
not  by,  the  young  American,  whom  the  chief  had  hon- 
ored with  his  friendship,  and  whose  pluck  and  soldierly 
bearing  had  stood  him  in  good  stead,  as  we  shall  see. 
His  sword-arm  was  in  a  sling,  but  he  \vas  otherwise  in 
good  shape,  sitting  at  an  inn  table  in  Messina,  dictat- 


FLOWER  BE   HUNDRED.  179 

ing  to  an  Englishman,  a  volunteer  like  himself,  who 
cheerfully  served  as  scribe. 

"I  am  all  right,  my  dear  grandfather,  and  I  make 
haste  to  give  you  the  details  of  the  fight  of  the  20th 
of  July.  It  began,  at  daybreak,  by  the  Neapolitans 
opening  fire  on  our  left,  from  behind  a  reed-bed  where 
they  lay  concealed.  We  were  in  the  center  near  the 
General,  and  at  once  got  the  order  to  charge  on  the 
enemy's  line.  They  were  so  well  screened  by  fig-trees 
and  thick  growing  reeds  our  bayonets  were  no  good, 
but  on  we  went,  to  the  assault,  plunging  headlong  into 
a  tremendous  fight.  One  of  our  Generals,  Medici,  had 
a  horse  killed  under  him,  and  gallant  Cosenz  was 
popped  over  by  a  spent  ball,  and  we  believed  him  to 
be  killed.  But  he  was  up  in  a  minute  shouting. 
"Viva  ITtalia."  Then  Garibaldi,  with  a  few  aids  and 
guides  and  the  Genoese  Carbineers,  while  attempting 
to  take  the  enemy  on  the  flank,  came  on  an  ugly  gun 
in  the  middle  of  the  road,  before  a  party  of  soldiers, 
who  showered  us  with  grape.  Great  Heaven,  what 
a  slaughter!  When  the  smoke  cleared  away,  there 
was  Garibaldi  on  foot,  one  boot  and  stirrup  gone, 
beside  his  wounded  horse — a  mere  handful  of  his  men 
around  him,  the  ground  strewn  with  dead.  I  lost  my 
horse,  and  was  hit  in  the  right  arm,  but  managed  to 
scramble  into  somebody's  empty  saddle,  and  follow 
the  General,  who  had  done  the  same.  Well,  we  took 
that  monster  of  a  gun,  but  a  troop  of  cavalry  came 
down  on  us  like  a  hurricane,  trying  to  get  it  back. 

"They  rode  into  a  ring  of  fire,  their  leader  meeting 
face  to  face  with  ours,  who  seized  his  bridle-rein  and 


l8o  FLOWER  DE  HUXDRED. 

called  on  him  to  surrender.  His  answer  was  a  saber- 
thrust,  parried  by  our  chief,  who,  with  his  sword,  laid 
the  Neapolitan  Colonel's  cheek  open  to  the  bone. 
Then  came  one  of  those  sights  that  dazzle  and  thrill 
you — a  sort  of  flash  of  up-swung  sabers  around  Gari- 
baldi's head,  and  our  men,  closing  around  him,  fight- 
ing like  fiends  to  rescue  him !  I  had  the  luck  to 
knock  the  horse  from  under  a  man  who  was  trying  to 
ride  me  down,  but  he  grabbed  at  my  throat  in  return, 
and  where  I  should  be  now,  but  for  the  hand  that 
writes  this  letter — he  says,  'enough  of  that,'  and  so, 
perhaps,  it  is.  The  newspapers,  will  tell  you  about 
our  taking  Messina.  The  little  town  is  crowded  with 
soldiers,  like  a  camp — " 

So  far  the  letter  was  in  a  strange  hand.  An  addi- 
tion to  it,  in  cramped  characters,  evidently  the  work  of 
the  left  hand,  was  from  Miles  himself. 

"Now  for  my  news.  I  couldn't  let  Cunningham — 
the  best  fellow  you  ever  saw,  besides  having  saved  my 
life — put  this  in.  I'm  Captain  on  the  General's  staff, 
this  fortnight  past — he  called  me  out  upon  the  field, 
sir,  and  did  it  publicly.  I  knew  you'd  want  to  hear 
it.  Tell  Dick  and  Ursula  (who's  as  good  as  any  boy)^ 
and  the  Parson — and  God  bless  you  all,  dear  grand- 
father." 

During  his  period  of  service  with  Garibaldi,  Captain 
Throckmorton  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  taking  part  in 
eleven  battles  and  many  skirmishes,  besides  being  sent 
by  the  Commander-in-Chief  upon  one  or  two  delicate 
missions,  involving  risk  to  his  neck.     This  was,  on  the 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  i8i 

whole,  a  fortunate  state  of  things,  for  his  messmates — 
who  had  made  such  a  favorite  of  the  dare-devil  young 
American  with  the  soft  voice  and  courteous  manners ; 
who  had  been  entertained  by  his  clever  imitations  of 
the  negro  patting  Juba  on  the  banks  of  the  James,  or 
dancing  breakdowns  after  the  corn  was  harvested — 
had  found  out  also  that  Miles  was  never  happier  than 
when  in  action.  He  had  moody  spells  during  which 
none  cared  to  approach  him ;  and  the  one  or  two 
exhibitions  of  his  temper  when  roused  had  not 
invited  a  repetition  of  the  display.  The  marches,  the 
bivouacs,  the  fights,  the  secret  service, — above  all  the 
hero-worship  for  his  chief, — kept  him  wholesome  and 
generally  cheerful.  With  his  friend  Cunningham,  he 
was  sent  to  London  upon  an  expedition  to  recruit  vol- 
unteers and  in  search  of  the  sinews  of  war,  and,  return- 
ing, remained  by  Garibaldi  until  the  splendid  transfer 
by  that  leader,  to  King  Victor  Emmanuel,  of  a  king- 
dom he  might  have  claimed  as  his  own,  and  his  subse- 
quent retirement  to  Caprera. 

Let  us  now,  for  the  better  understanding  of  events 
that  are  to  follow,  bestow  a  passing  glance  upon  the 
social  conditions  of  the  American  Republic,  so  soon  to 
be  plunged  into  fratricidal  war. 

In  the  Southern  States,  the  discussion  of  the 
tragedy  at  Harper's  Ferry — the  bass  note  struck  at 
the  beginning  of  the  struggle,  whose  echoes  will  go  on 


l82  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

reverberating  down  all  Time — had  known  a  temporary 
lull.  Talk  was  now  all  about  the  new  President,  upon 
whom  so  much  depended,  and  everywhere  the  voice 
of  the  politician  was  heard  in  the  land.  A  charming 
young  English  prince,  come  over  the  seas  into  loyal 
Canada,  had  danced  his  way  gayly  through  the  East- 
ern and  Middle  States.  People  at  the  North  might 
pretend  republican  indifference  to  this  event,  but  in 
the  South  it  was  quite  otherwise.  Virginians  espe- 
cially, who  still  treasured  portraits  of  the  beautiful 
Florizel,  great-uncle  of  the  present  royalty, — who, 
spite  of  their  Washington  and  Jefferson,  continued  to 
talk  of  England  as  "home"  and  the  ''parent  land," — 
were  properly  excited  at  his  coming.  They  even  felt 
a  little  uncertain  how  they  could  continue  to  like  that 
delightful,  witty  Mr.  Thackeray,  after  his  lectures 
upon  the  Georges. 

Elsewhere,  the  Japanese  princes  divided  attention 
with  a  new  mammoth  steamship  called  the  Great 
Eastern.  Washington  Irving  had  died  ;  and,  following 
matchless  Geoffry  Crayon  to  the  shades,  had  passed 
that  kindly  gentleman,  G.  P.  R.  James,  whose  works 
were  many,  but,  by  my  halidom !  I  trow,  there  be 
few  who  read  them  now !  People  were  buying,  bor- 
rowing, taking  out  of  libraries,  eagerly  talking  about, 
four  new  novels:  Elsie  Venner,  The  Mill  on  the 
Floss,  The  Marble  Faun,  and  the  Woman  in  White. 
(One  could  wish  there  were  some  to  equal  these   in 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  183 

the  present  year  of  grace !)  Spiritualism,  through 
its  accomplished  prophet,  Mr.  Home,  had  brought 
into  vogue  table-turnings,  raps,  and  flights  of  the  soul 
through  space. 

But,  in  Virginia,  there  was  too  much  of  anxiety  for 
the  future  of  their  State  to  allow  indulgence  in  many 
fashionable  pastimes.  Men,  living  in  sequestered 
neighborhoods,  mounted  their  horses  and  cantered 
over  to  the  cross-roads*  post-ofifice  or  County  Court 
House  to  hear  the  news,  and  feel  the  pulse  of  the 
community.  Mothers  of  families,  to  whom  their  lords 
returned  from  these  disturbing  expeditions  to  sit  for 
hours  poring  with  knitted  brows  over  the  newspapers, 
could  not  at  first  understand  what  the  whole  thing 
was  about.  They  were  well  ofT  as  they  were.  The 
crops  were  good,  hog-killing  promised  fairly,  the 
negroes,  in  spite  of  that  horrid  scare  of  Harper's 
Ferry,  were  behaving  as  usual,  not  a  pot  of  the  sum- 
mer preserves  had  fermented,  and  it  was  a  Itealthy 
season.  The  children  gave  little  heed  to  the  brewing 
trouble.  From  what  the  young  ones  had  been  able 
to  pick  up  in  the  conversation  of  their  elders,  there 
existed  in  the  far-away  North,  a  race  of  dark-complex- 
ioned folk  called  "Black  Republicans,"  who  wanted  to 
get  their  colored  people  to  run  away  and  sit  at  hotel 
tables  beside  the  whites !  A  silly  notion,  not  worth 
all  this  pother — and  they  went  back  to  their  play, 
these  children  who  were  to  see  the  wave  of  civil  war 


1 84  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

in  all  its  horrors  invade  their  hearth-stones,  and  some 
of  them  to  grow  up  deprived  of  education,  pinched 
and  narrowed  to  live  the  lives  of  the  poorest. 

Seeing  farther  into  a  millstone  than  did  the  quiet 
dwellers  of  the  interior,  those  of  the  Border  gathered 
themselves  together  to  meet  the  coming  shock.  Mod- 
erate men  shrank  aghast  from  the  apparition  confront- 
ing them.  At  Flower  de  Hundred,  the  Colonel 
watched  the  movement  of  the  advanced  secessionists 
with  an  anxiety  little  short  of  fever.  Day  and  even- 
ing he  would  pace  the  hall  and  study,  brooding  over 
affairs;  and  thus,  one  afternoon  in  December,  Pey- 
ton Willis,  riding  over  to  inquire  what  news  had 
come  by  the  down  boat,  found  him  in  great  perturba- 
tion. 

Willis,  a  then  rare  type  in  the  better  class  of  Vir- 
ginia society,  an  "extreme  measures"  man,  had  been 
pressing  the  Colonel  hard  for  reasons  why  he  desired 
their  State  to  hold  back  in  the  attitude  of  a  mediator 
between  the  contending  parties. 

"South  Carolina  has  seceded,  sir!"  the  Colonel  said, 
greeting  him  with  a  somber  face. 

"Then  it  is  war — war  to  the  knife,"  cried  out  Willis, 
violently  striking  his  fist  upon  the  table.  "If  our  men 
in  power  are  fit  for  their  places,  they'll  show  those 
cursed  Abolitionists  we're  prepared  to  meet  them  in 
the  field.  I'm  ready  to  take  up  arms  to-morrow.  I 
hope  before  a  year  has  gone  the  soil  of  our  State  will 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  185 

be  one  vast  military  camp  awaiting  the  drum  tap  to 
repel  armed  interference  from  the  North." 

"I  trust  not,  Willis;  I  trust  not,"  said  the  old  man, 
gnawing  his  gray  mustache,  as  he  did  when  sorely 
vexed.  "We  have  had  wise  rulers  in  the  past  as  well 
as  good  soldiers.  Let's  hope  the  men  of  to-day  are  fit 
to  cope  with  the  issues  of  to-day.  Of  this  action  of 
South  Carolina  there  has  been  hardly  room  to  doubt. 
Long  ago,  when  she  was  so  near  seceding  about  nulli- 
fication, Mr.  Calhoun  prophesied  that  when  it  came  to 
be  a  question  not  of  taxes  but  of  slavery,  she  would 
not  hesitate  to  leave  the  Union.  To  my  judgment 
the  misfortune  is  that  we're  letting  party  shriekers 
make  slavery  the  matter  of  contention  between  the 
States.  If  to  fight  we  are  finally  driven,  which  God 
forbid,  let  it  be  for  the  right  of  self-government,  for 
liberty,  but  not  for  slavery." 

"If  I  fight,  Colonel,"  said  Willis,  in  a  deliberately 
drawling  voice,  assumed  in  his  moments  of  keen  ex- 
citement, *T  wish  it  to  be  clearly  understood  that  it 
is  to  maintain  my  place  as  one  of  the  governing  race 
who  wont  brook  having  his  slave  held  as  his  equal.  I 
decline  to  submit  to  be  plundered  by  a  set  of  high- 
way robbers  from  another  country,  who,  sneaking  down 
here  to  sow  the  seeds  of  revolt  among  our  slaves, 
would  forever  destroy  the  security  of  our  homes ;  who 
are  directly  responsible  for  the  ruin  and  bloodshed 
sure  to  come.     Peace  I     There   is  no  peace,  when  we 


1 86  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

are  linked  in  the  bonds  of  brotherhood  to  fellows  who 
stoop  to  that.  The  torch  John  Brown  put  into  the 
hands  of  our  blacks  has  already  burnt  away  such 
bonds.  There  are  none  existing.  By  the  act  of  the 
men  of  the  North  we  are  freed  from  them.  If  we 
must  fight  to  stay  free,  then  let  us  fight." 

"I  don't  sympathize  with  the  sentimentalists  who 
cry  out  on  us  as  fiends,  because  we  accept  the  condi- 
tions of  life  and  society  transmitted  to  us  by  our  fa- 
thers," said  the  Colonel,  "and  which,  till  recently,  mark 
you,  existed  in  Massachusetts.  We,  at  a  tremendous 
cost,  have  kept  our  negroes  from  lapsing  into  barbar- 
ism, and  they  are  a  heavy  weight  to  carry.  But  I'd 
have  been  glad  to  have  been  born  free  of  the  responsi- 
bility of  slaves.  I  wish  my  great-grandchildren  could 
live  free  of  it." 

"Why,  Colonel !"  exclaimed  Willis,  with  a  glitter  in 
his  eye.  "This  is  queer  talk  for  a  slaveholder  at  a 
time  like  this." 

"I  have  held  this  opinion  since  before  you  were 
born,  and  you  know  it,"  answered  Richard  Throckmor- 
ton, getting  up  to  walk  the  floor. 

"Then  you  don't  mean  to  resist  the  Yankees  when 
they  come?" 

"Why,  sir,  confound  you,  d'ye  think  a  man  who's 
fought  under  that,  can  wish  to  fight  against  it?"  cried 
out  the  old  man,  stopping  short,  and  pointing  to  the 
flag  that  hung  above  his  midshipman's  sword  upon  the 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  1 87 

wall.  "When  I  was  a  little  chap,  pacing  the  decks  of 
the  Constitution,  I  used  to  watch  it  every  day 
above  me,  and  think  of  the  blood  that  had  been  shed 
to  put  it  there — I  was  lifted  up,  then  and  there,  out  of 
boyhood  into  a  man's  sense  of  responsibility  and 
honor.  When  we  went  into  action  with  the  Giier- 
riere,  and  hot  shot  began  to  rain  upon  our  decks,  I 
can  remember  catching  a  glimpse  of  those  colors  that 
was  like  a  shock  of  electricity.  A  man  don't  forget 
such  things  because  his  hair  is  white,  Peyton  Willis. 
Put  that  into  your  pipe  and  smoke  it,  and  then  you'll 
understand  why  I  don't  want  to  take  arms  against  this 
flag." 

"But  suppose  your  State  goes  out  of  the  Union," 
suggested  Willis,  with  a  half-smile. 

A  flush  mounted  to  the  Colonel's  forehead,  and 
deepened  the  brown  of  his  withered  cheeks. 

"Virginia!"  he  exclaimed,  in  reverent  accents;  "I 
should  feel  as  if  my  mother  called  me  to  come  to  her 
in  need." 

"You  make  me  think  of  that  epitaph  over  the 
Throckmorton  who  was  the  last  of  the  Burgesses  to 
hold  out  for  King  George,"  Willis  said,  softened 
against  his  will :  "  'Loyal  to  his  King,  As  he  was  Born, 
he  Died — a  True  Virginian.'  " 

"You  may  write  'ditto'  over  my  old  bones,  when  it's 
time  to  lay  me  at  his  feet,  Phil,"  answered  the  Colonel 
gently. 


l88  FLOWER  DE  HUXDRED. 

"I'm  thinking  this  Httle  rumpus  will  bring  home 
that  young  cockerel  of  yours,  over  the  sea,  to  crow 
on  his  own  fence,"  went  on  his  neighbor.  "That's 
what  we  need  now — young  blood  and  spirit  that  does 
not  count  the  cost." 

"You'll  have  enough  of  it,  never  fear,"  said  the  Colo- 
nel, sighing.  "My  last  letter  from  Miles  tells  me  he 
is  determined  to  resign  the  commission  the  King  has 
given  him  in  the  Sardinian  service, — as  he  has  done  to 
all  of  Garibaldi's  ofificers, — and  sail  for  home  at  the  first 
indication  that  his  State  requires  his  services." 

"Good !"  cried  Willis,  slapping  his  knee.  "And 
Dick?     We  can  depend  on  Dick?" 

"You  may  depend  on  Dick  not  to  hold  back  in  time 
of  real  emergency — yes.  But  he  will  not  move  with- 
out weighing  well  the  reasons  and  the  proprieties." 

"Geography  has  taken  care  that  whatever  comes  we 
shall  be  in  for  it.  A  few  months,  and  this  quiet  slug- 
gish old  river  of  ours  may  be  alive  with  gun-boats, 
and  our  shores  with  camps.  Nobody,  living  where  we 
do,  can  sit  down  with  folded  hands  and  merely  pray 
for  the  result.  I  shall  run  up  to  Richmond  to-mor- 
row, and  take  the  sense  of  my  friends  there  as  to  the 
action  of  our  State.  If  Virginia  fails  to  follow  Caro- 
lina, then  I  shall  blush  for  her,  and  shake  her  dust 
off  my  feet.  To  secure  Southern  independence,  I'd 
pull  up  stakes  to-morrow,  and  go  down  to  enlist  as  a 
South  Carolina  volunteer." 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  189 

"Put  on  the  brakes,  Phil,"  said  the  Colonel,  wincing. 
"Let  us  talk  of  something  pleasanter.  I  hope  Helen 
has  decided  to  come  to  us  for  Christmas.  We  must 
draw  together  over  our  broken  links,  you  know. 
Miles  and  Nutty  both  away!  The  little  girl  is  a  great 
loss  to  me,  but  her  aunt  was  in  such  dire  trouble  at 
the  death  of  both  her  daughters  from  Roman  fever 
that,  when  she  came  back  to  America  and  begged  for 
Ursula,  we  felt  obliged  to  send  her  off.  Dick  and 
Bonnibel  will  have  to  do  double  duty  in  cheering  us 
old  people.  And  this  is  no  time,"  here  the  good  man 
unconsciously  groaned  aloud,  "when  our  land  has 
passed  under  the  pillar  of  cloud,  for  Christian  men 
who  love  their  country  to  give  their  days  to  idle  pleas- 
uring.    So,  take  it  all  and  all,  we  are  not  likely  to  be 

gay." 

January  saw  the  secession  of  Mississippi,  Alabama, 
Georgia,  and  Florida,  to  join  hands  with  their  hot- 
blooded  little  sister  State.  By  the  time  April  had 
again  girdled  the  green  slopes  of  the  James  River 
country  with  flowers,  there  was  no  longer  room  for 
much  doubt  of  the  intention  of  the  Old  Dominion. 
On  the  seventeenth  of  that  month  the  ordinance  of 
secession  was  adopted  by  the  Convention  of  Virginia, 
"subject  to  popular  vote,"  and  the  populace  said, — war ! 
The  first  gun  fired  in  the  bombardment  of  Fort  Sum- 
ter had  loosened  the  tongue  of  the  most  chary  of 
speech  among  them.     The  excitement   was  universal, 


I9<^  SLOWER  DE  HUAWRED. 

and  no  voice  was  now  heard  but  bade  God  speed  the 
independence  of  the  South.  With  the  formal  proffer 
of  his  sword  to  Virginia,  by  her  true  son  and  trained 
soldier,  Colonel  Robert  Edmund  Lee,  and  his  assign- 
ment to  the  command  of  her  forces,  a  feeling  of 
security  was  established  that  went  far  to  dismiss 
doubt  from  the  mind  of  the  most  conservative.  And 
when,  on  the  first  day  of  May,  was  heard  the  call  of 
the  Governor  of  the  State  for  volunteers  to  defend 
her  from  invasion,  thousands  of  willing  swords  flashed 
in  the  air. 

The  Colonel,  going  to  Richmond  to  meet  Miles  on 
his  return  from  Italy,  put  his  arm  within  that  of  his 
splendid  young  soldier,  and  proudly  walked  to  the 
Governor's  house  in  the  Capitol  Square,  where,  in  an 
interview  with  his  old  friend,  the  Executive,  he  re- 
ported both  himself  and  Captain  Throckmorton,  late 
of  his  Majesty  King  Victor  Emmanuel's  service, 
as  ready  for  military  duty  to  the  State;  and  they 
were  in  due  time  and  with  due  formality  assigned 
to  their  respective  commands.  The  Reverend  Talia- 
ferro Crabtfee,  who,  like  the  "fine  Irish  gentleman  all 
of  the  olden  time,"  had  a  rooted  objection  to  being  left 
out  "when  such  good  stuff  as  this  was  flying  around 
his  head,"  offered  himself  as  Chaplain,  and  was  as- 
signed to  the  regiment  of  infantry  to  which  Miles  was 
appointed  Major.  Peyton  Willis,  clutching  eagerly  at 
the  first   straw  of  opportunity   for   active  service,  had 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  I9I 

been  a  volunteer  at  the  capture  of  Harper's  Ferry; 
he  had  there  joined  a  company  of  artillery  reporting 
to  Col.  Thomas  J.  (afterwards  "Stonewall")  Jackson, 
and  was  by  that  officer  mustered  into  the  army  for 
the  war. 

Of  the  other  friends  and  neighbors  of  Flower  de 
Hundred,  none  were  found  satisfied  to  hug  the  hearth- 
stone or  remain  hand  on  the  plow.  Men  of  advanc- 
ing years,  whose  gray  hairs  had  earned  the  honorable 
right  to  stay,  enlisted  as  privates  side  by  side  with 
boys  of  sixteen  who  had  strained  away  from  their 
mother's  tears  and  kisses,  Richmond,  already  the 
center  of  activity,  and  on  the  first  day  of  June  to  be 
the  Capital  of  the  new  Government,  was  filled  with 
daily  arriving  volunteers  from  the  more  distant  coun- 
ties, most  of  them  eager  to  furnish  their  own  uni- 
forms, horses,  and  personal  equipments.  Citizens  of 
easy  fortune  like  Richard  Throckmorton,  who  had 
also  fitted  out  a  company  in  his  grandson's  regiment, 
gave  money,  horses,  mules,  and  supplies  for  the  gath- 
ering troops. 

And  Dick?  He  had  lingered — not  so  much  on  the 
score  of  his  wife,  who  already  made  altars  before  him, 
sacrificing  thereon  as  full  a  measure  of  praise  and 
petting  as  if  the  world  contained  no  other  man  than 
hers — but  for  the  sake  of  his  little  great-grandmother, 
who  could  not  consent  to  ^w^  him  up. 

To  the  young,  that  war  in  its  infancy  inspired  more 


192"  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

of  exhilaration  than  of  awe.  Turning  its  gala  face 
upon  them,  it  dazzled  but  did  not  dismay.  The  very 
air  seemed  to  thrill  with  joyous  clamor,  with  clatter  of 
swords  and  rattle  of  guns,  with  squeak  of  fifes  and 
roll  of  drums.  Inside  the  plantation  gates — with  the 
gaping  negroes  and  the  crops  rippling  like  seas  of  em- 
erald, and  the  old-time  ways  that  made  life  as  comfort- 
able as  rest  on  a  feather-bed — was  stagnation,  pure  and 
simple.  Who  that  had  blood  in  his  veins  and  virile 
force  to  carry  him  away  could  bear  to  loll  there  at 
ease  and  read  in  the  newspaper  about  his  brothers  in 
the  fight?  The  women  were  as  eager  as  the  men. 
All  over  the  South  they  were  standing  bareheaded  at 
their  house  doors  in  the  spring  sunshine,  swallowing 
sighs,  affecting  cheerfulness,  waving  hands  and  hand- 
kerchiefs till  their  horsemen  had  spurred  out  of 
sight. 

How  noble  he  ^  looks  {^' viy  husband''  or  ''my  boy'') 
in  uniform  !  No  one  sits  a  horse  as  well  as  he  !  How 
bright  his  eyes  are,  and  his  smile  I  He  will  ride  into 
battle  looking  so,  and  the  foe  will  fly  before  him  !  And 
it  is  I — / — ivJio  have  given  this  hero  to  fny  country: 
therefore  I  will  not  weep,  but  rather  exult  that  Jie  is 
mine,  and  I  am  his  I 

But  to  the  aged,  who  had  long  since  narrowed  their 
universe  into  the  radius  of  home,  it  was  harder  to 
face  these  partings ;  and  Mrs.  Throckmorton,  at  first, 
begged  Dick  to   stay  with  her,  at  least  until  after  har- 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  193 

vest,  as  her  son  Richard  had  convinced  himself  it 
was  his  duty  to  go  at  once. 

Dick  promised,  and  found  enough  to  do  to  fill  his 
days,  for,  although  Sampson,  the  faithful  overseer, 
had  shown  no  symptoms  of  intention  to  forsake  their 
interests,  the  negroes  were  uneasy,  and  the  general 
interruption  to  agricultural  industries  throughout  the 
country  had  already  begun  to  affect  their  own.  The 
Colonel,  in  command  of  a  regiment  of  State  infantry, 
temporarily  encamped  near  Richmond,  came  now  and 
again  to  look  after  them.  He  was  in  good  spirits, 
hopeful  of  results,  and  seemed  to  have  taken  a  new 
lease  of  life. 

''Since  Richard  was  a  little  fellow,  I  have  never 
opposed  him  when  he  has  once  made  up  his  mind," 
said  the  old  lady,  in  her  flute-like  voice.  "He  was 
always  kind  to  me,  even  before  his  sorrows  that  made 
him  kind  to  every  one.  But  there  were  certain  things 
no  one  could  have  stopped  him  from  doing,  I  believe. 
I  often  think,  Polly,  my  dear,  that  there  is  a  streak  of 
him  in  Miles.  Ah,  me !  God  knows  best,  but  I  did 
hope  we  were  settled  in  peace  when  dear  Dick  got 
Bonnibel  to  be  his  wife." 

"Now,  Aunt  dear,  I'll  not  have  you  sighing,"  cried 
brisk  Miss  Polly.  "As  our  days  so  shall  our  strength 
be,  you  know  better  than  I.  And  if  it  wont  tire  you, 
suppose  you  scrape  a  little  lint  while  you  are  sitting 
there.     I'm  planning  to  send  a  box  off  to   Richard's 


194  FLOWER  BE  HUNDRED. 

camp,  to-morrow,  with  fresh  vegetables  and  eggs  and 
things,  and  I  think  I'll  put  in  some  bandages  and  lint. 
There's  always  sickness,  and  there  may  be  something 
worse." 

"May  I  come  in,  Granny?"  said  Dick,  putting  his 
head  in  at  the  door.  "I've  news  for  you.  Miles 
will  be  down  to-day,  or  to-morrow,  to  spend  a  night 
with  us." 

"Miles!"  exclaimed  both  ladies  in  delight. 

For,  what  with  one  interruption  or  another,  there 
had  always  been  some  reason  why  the  wanderer  had 
not  yet,  a  month  after  arrival  in  the  country,  put  in  an 
appearance  at  his  home.  The  tales  of  his  beauty  and 
his  prowess  had  filled  their  hearts  and  overflowed  their 
lips  continually.  Dick,  who  had  seen  him  in  Rich- 
mond, the  Colonel,  and  Miss  Polly  who  achieved  a 
pilgrimage  on  the  boat  to  cry  all  hail  to  the  family 
hero,  reported  that  Miles's  soldiering  had  made  of  him 
the  best-looking  fellow  in  the  new  service,  and  that 
was  saying  much. 

There  were,  on  the  young  man's  side,  many  conflict- 
ing emotions  to  keep  him  away  from  the  old  place 
and  its  new  mistress.  He  had  indeed  put  off  going 
until  he  could,  in  decency,  do  so  no  longer.  As  on 
horseback  he  now  journeyed  leisurely  along  the  famil- 
iar roads  leading  southward  from  town,  Miles  began 
to  feel  the  sting  of  an  old-time  wound  apparently 
long  healed.     The  thought  of  Bonnibel's  radiant  face 


FLOWER   DE  HUNDRED.  195 

again  turned  upon  him,  of  her  white  neck  and  hand, 
her  dropping  auburn  hair,  made  his  head  swim  for  a 
time.  He  remembered  having  stood  half  of  one  sum- 
mer night  watching  her  window  in  the  wing,  then  in  a 
tumult  throwing  himself  on  horseback  to  ride  madly 
through  the  woods  till  daybreak,  fording  streams, 
jumping  fences,  anything  to  rid  himself  of  the  fever  in 
his  blood.  A-ah !  that  was  sharp ;  but  the  pang  had 
left  him,  all  the  same.  Why,  a  year  ago  it  would 
have  staggered  him!  And,  presently,  under  the  spell 
of  the  blossoming  woods,  he  began  to  troll  a  song,  to 
feel  a  school-boy's  delight  at  returning  home  for  holi- 
day, to  wonder  whether  Bonnibel  still  had  that  little 
obstinate  way  of  holding  on  to  an  immaterial  point 
which  in  a  wife  must  be  so  very  trying.  A  woman 
with  a  square  jaw  like  hers  was  pretty  sure  to  fight 
about  little  things,  he'd  noticed — !  Miles  laughed 
aloud.  Now,  for  certain,  he  knew  himself  to  be  no 
longer  the  desperate  lad  who  had  flung  himself  away 
from  home  and  fatherland  for  the  sake  of  a  creature 
m^ade  up  of  milk  and  roses.  As  he  rode  along,  his 
brain  cleared,  his  pulse  held  firm,  his  heart  beat  only 
at  thought  of  returning  home  and  casting  down 
before  them  all  the  laurels  he  had  won.  He  experi- 
enced a  joyous  thrill  at  the  idea  of  visiting  Mammy 
Judy's  cabin  and  telling  the  dear  old  soul  about  his 
soldier's  life  in  Sicily.  Grandmamma  and  Cousin 
Polly  appeared  before  his  mind's    eye   crowned  with 


196  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

separate  aureoles.  Dick's  wife,  his  old-time  charmer, 
was  only  one  of  the  home  procession,  thank  God,  and 
his  passion  for  her  was  over. 

Two  interruptions  there  were  to  the  serene  enjoy- 
ment of  his  return  to  Flower  de  Hundred — one,  the 
doubt  whether  he  could  yet  look  with  resignation 
upon  the  inheritance  he  might  have  had ;  the  other, 
Nutty's  absence.  For  with  every  precious  remem- 
brance of  boyhood  in  these  places,  his  faithful  little 
henchwoman  was  blended.  In  the  babble  of  a  hidden 
stream  its  course  betrayed  by  green  things  growing 
and  blowing  on  the  banks,  he  seemed  to  hear  her 
laugh.  A  veritable  sprite  of  the  forest  was  Nutty,  so 
keenly  alive  to  the  melodies  and  mysteries  of  Nature 
in  her  secret  haunts;  so  light  of  foot;  so  tireless  in 
the  saddle;  so  quick  in  sympathy.  Poor  little  girl! 
He  should  miss  her  dreadfully.  And  under  a  quiver- 
ing canopy  of  gum-trees  he  checked  his  horse  upon  a 
carpet  of  fairy-flax,  to  take  from  his  breast-pocket  and 
read  again  a  letter,  the  last  to  come  from  Ursula. 

"Away  off  on  the  banks  of  the  beautiful  Hudson,  the 
spring  fever  in  my  veins  is  all  for  dear  old  Virginia," 
Nutty  wrote.  "They  are  good  to  me  here,  this  place 
is  exquisite,  but  'it's  hame,  hame  in  my  ain  countree, 
I  fain  wad  be,'  little,  wretched,  homesick  thing  that 
I  am  !  Miles,  I  trod,  out  walking,  on  a  shoot  of  garlic 
in  the  grass,  and  presto !  the  smell  of  it  carried  me 
back  to  the  day  I  was  puzzling  out  my  second  Eclogue 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  197 

in  the  parlor  closet  on  the  chest.  The  Parson  had 
scolded  me,  and  I  loathed  Virgil.  You  came  in  to  get 
some  corks  for  your  seine  from  off  the  upper  shelf. 
You  sat  down  on  the  chest,  and  lent  me  your  handker- 
chief to  wipe  my  eyes,  for  my  pocket  was  torn  out  and 
its  contents  lost,  as  usual  ( — do  you  remember  'Lucy 
Locket'  was  my  name  with  you?).  Then,  you  read 
how  Thestylis  put  garlic  in  with  the  herbs  to  mix  her 
salad,  while  around  her  sat  the  reapers  resting  in  the 
heat  of  the  day — that  salad  brought  back  my  wander- 
ing interest  in  the  classics — how  well  I  understand 
now  the  hold  those  trifles  about  home  had  on  you  in 
Sicily !  But  I  must  not  trust  myself  to  write.  I  don't 
dare  hope  to  get  away.  My  poor  aunt  is  heart-broken, 
and  dependent  on  me,  every  day — I  hear  things  said 
constantly  that  make  it  doubly  hard  to  stay ;  but 
then  how  can  I  go?  People  are  very  kind.  I  think 
they  see  I  am  lonely  and  that  I  am  trying  to  do  right. 
My  uncle  is  kinder,  too ;  he  is  much  changed  since  the 
loss  of  the  poor  girls;  but  he  can't  help  wounding  me 
about  politics.  Every  meal  is  seasoned  with  them.  I 
can't  answer  back ;  and  1  get  up  with  a  swelling  heart, 
and  run  and  weep  my  heart  out  in  my  room.  I  am 
sixteen  only,  but  I  feel  twenty.  Yes,  you  will  see  how 
I  have  grown  and  aged!  Here  I  am  always  'Ursula.' 
I  allow  none  but  the  Flower  de  Hundred  people  to 
call  me  'Nutty' — that  is  more  than  enough  about  my- 
self! Good-by,  dear  Miles,  I  have  your  parcel  still. 
It  shall  never  leave  me  till  I  give  it  into  your  hands. 
For  you  will  come  out  of  this  war  safe  and  victorious, 
I  feel.     Oh,  with  such  a  cause  !  oh,  if  I  were  a  man  ! — " 

"Poor  bird,  fluttering  behind  golden  bars,"  he  mused, 


198  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED, 

putting  her  letter  back.  "Home  isn't  home  without 
her." 

Miles,  at  his  own  request,  went  to  bed  that  night 
in  the  old  nursery  on  the  ground-floor  where  Tarlton's 
troopers  had  stabled  their  steeds — Dick's  vacant  cot 
beside  his  own.  The  walls,  the  deep-mouthed  chim- 
ney-place, the  screen  around  the  wash-stand,  where 
Dick  and  he,  like  Beau  Brummell  in  his  exile,  had 
pasted  a  fine  mosaic  of  many  pictures  during  their 
convalescence  after  measles,  still  bore  the  marks  of 
their  boyish  mischief  or  ingenuity.  After  he  had 
blown  his  candle  out,  the  hero  of  Melazzo,  and  of 
the  more  recent  daring  venture  into  Calabria  as  a  spy, 
by  which  the  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  had  been 
won,  hesitated  a  moment,  then  knelt  down  by  his  bed 
and  thanked  God  for  bringing  him  safe  home. 

A  great  peace  had  come  into  his  heart.  The  past 
with  all  its  bitterness  was  gone.  Before  him  lay  a  sol- 
dier's future.  He  fell  asleep  listening  with  a  pleased 
ear  to  the  twitter  of  swallows  in  the  chimney,  and  the 
rustle  of  flying-squirrels  on  the  low  roof. 

Shaken  though  he  was  by  Miles's  visit  home,  Dick 
remained  at  the  plantation  as  long  as  the  troops  were 
inactive  around  Richmond  and  ladies  were  calling  at 
the  camp  and  there  were  tea-parties  and  gay  battalion 
drills.  But  as  the  month  of  June  wore  away,  and  the 
order  came  to  move  forward  to  Manassas,  facing  the 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  199 

outposts  beyond  which  gathered  host  upon  host  of 
splendidly  equipped  soldiers  from  the  North,  the  strain 
became  too  much  for  him.  Bonnibel,  finding  that  he 
was  fretting  his  heart  out  to  be  gone,  told  Cousin 
Polly,  who  told  Grandmamma;  and  so,  one  day  Dick 
was  summoned  into  the  old  lady's  room,  where  she 
signed  to  those  present  to  leave  her  alone  with  him. 

The  very  sight  of  her  was  one  to  calm  excited 
thought.  Sitting  in  the  deep  arm-chair  where  the  chil- 
dren had  always  carried  to  her  their  joys  and  troubles, 
she  looked  so  waxen  v/hite,  so  flower-like,  he  was 
tempted  to  throw  himself  on  his  knees,  clasp  her 
around  the  waist,  and  laying  his  yellow  head  upon  her 
lap,  offer  again  to  do  only  what  she  wished.  Little 
knowing  that  she  had  sent  for  him  to  deliberately  rid 
herself  of  this  dear  prop,  he  longed  to  lend  to  her  his 
youthful  strength. 

"Here  I  am,  Granny  darling;  so  glad  you  want  me," 
Dick  said. 

"My  own  dear!"  the  old  lady  said,  smoothing  his 
locks.  Not  even  Bonnibel's  touch  affected  him  like 
hers. 

"What  is  it,  sweetheart,  something  I  can  do  for 
you?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  my  son,  my  son,  you  have  done  for  me 
enough!"  she  cried,  pitifully  moved.  "Never  shall  it 
be  said  that  I  held  back  child  of  mine  from  the  way 
his  duty  pointed  him  to  go." 


200  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

Dick  started  up,  the  glad  blood  tingling  in  his  veins. 

"Then  you  give  me  leave,  Granny !  You  have  taken 
a  mill-stone  from  my  heart." 

"Was  it  so  bad  as  that,  Dick?  Well,  I  am  blinder 
than  I  thought — and  more  selfish  than  I  thought !" 

They  talked  long  and  intimately,  Dick  emerging 
from  the  room  with  a  look  of  exaltation  on  his  face. 
She  had  given  him  her  benediction,  and  with  it  had  ex- 
haled the  aroma  of  a  pure  life,  whose  days  had  been 
made  more  lovely  by  his  love;  she  had  girded  on  his 
sword  that  must  never  be  drawn  unworthily  of  her. 

And  over  all  our  broad  land.  North  and  South, 
partings  were  going  on  like  this.  They  sanctified  the 
ends  for  which  both  sides  were  fighting;  they  lifted 
men  out  of  the  ignoble  into  heroism ;  they  filled  the 
ranks  of  blue  and  gray  with  soldiers  of  a  caliber  no 
other  nation's  history  has  surpassed — and  they  filled, 
alas !  innumerable  graves. 

Manassas  was  fought,  and  the  existence  of  a  South- 
ern Confederacy  was  proved  to  be  more  than  a  mere 
castle  in  Spain  erected  by  restless  politicians.  From 
that  day  the  steady  swing  of  the  tremendous  pendu- 
lum went  on.  With  the  opening  of  the  second  year's 
campaign,  the  theater  of  events  was  transferred  again 
to  Richmond  and  its  vicinity.  Colonel  Throckmorton, 
who  had  been  able  during  the  spring  to  make  only 
a  brief  visit  to  his  home,  found,  thanks  to  the  indefatig- 
able care  of  Sampson   and  Miss  Polly,    that   matters 


FLOWER  BE  HUNDRED.  20I 

were   progressing  there   more  favorably    than    he  had 
dared    to  hope.     With    regard  to  many  negroes   who 
saw  the  way  unimpeded   between  them  and   freedom, 
it  was  not  to  be   supposed  they  would  not  avail  them- 
selves  of  the  opportunity  to  seek   it.     There   had,  in 
fact,  been  instructions  from  the  Colonel  to  his  overseer 
to  make  no  effort  to  restrain  those  who  showed  any 
desire  to  go.     A  number  of  the  younger  field  hands, 
therefore,    had    tied    up    their    bandana   bundles    and 
were  off  to  the  disillusionment  falling  to  the  portion 
of  so    many  "contrabands."      The  work  of   the  place 
thus  interrupted,  the  results  of  its  various  industries 
were  correspondingly  reduced;  but  the  household  had 
known   no  hardships  other  than  the  inevitable  alarm 
and  anxiety,  the   fruit   of  civil    war.      Early  in    May, 
1862,  the    ladies,    from  the    windows    of  the  drawing- 
room    at  Flower    de   Hundred,  saw  a   fleet  of  United 
States  gunboats  steam  past  them  in  gallant  style,  and 
heard    a   loud-mouthed    but    unavailing   protest    from 
the    Confederate    batteries    stationed    farther    up    the 
river  bank. 

A  few  days  later,  Norfolk  was  occupied  by  the 
Federals,  and  the  Confederate  watch-dog,  Merrimac, 
so  long  the  terror  of  the  enemy's  fleets,  was  destroyed 
by  the  masters  he  had  served.  The  river  now  became 
an  unimpeded  highway,  along  which  the  war-ships  of 
the  Union  made  haste  to  push,  to  aid  in  the  siege  of 
Richmond.      Two    grim    monsters    of    the    deep,    the 


202  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

Monitor  and  the  Naugattick,  having  joined  in  safety 
the  flotilla  beneath  Drewry's  Bluff,  an  engagement 
occurred  which,  had  the  shore  batteries  been  silenced 
and  passed,  might  have  carried  the  Union  troops  in 
triumph  to  the  goal  of  all  their  hopes,  and  so  ended 
the  war.  But  the  Confederates  stood  firm  ;  the  panic 
at  Richmond  was  allayed,  and  during  the  month  of 
flowers,  the  "bridal  of  earth  and  sky"  along  the  James, 
this  terrible  pageant  of  armed  ships  continued  to  pass 
and  repass  without  accomplishing  much  more  than 
startling  the  birds  from  their  nests,  and  driving  the 
cattle  away  from  their  grazing  places  in  purple  clover 
that  reached  to  the  water's  edge. 

At  this  juncture  of  affairs.  Cousin  Polly  congratu- 
lated herself  that  she  had  "sent  Bell  into  Richmond, 
where,  whether  comfortable  or  not,  the  child  can  get 
to  her  husband  if  he  needs  her."  The  household, 
consisting  now  only  of  the  two  older  ladies,  was  rein- 
forced by  Sampson,  who  had  been  brought  into  the 
Great  House  to  sleep.  Throughout  the  neighborhood 
everywhere,  the  men-folk  had  betaken  themselves  to 
be  part  and  parcel  of  the  fray,  the  women  and  children 
following  to  huddle  into  lodgings  in  Richmond.  Old 
Tom  Hazleton,  large  as  Mars  in  person,  had  volun- 
teered;  and  Septimius  Ackley  made  a  soldier  of  the 
best.  (Poor  Sabina  undertook  to  keep  a  boarding- 
house  in  town,  with  but  indifferent  results!)  None 
stopped  to  count  the  cost.     All  felt  sanguine  of  the 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  203 

early  deliverance  of  Richmond  from  her  foes.  This 
universal  movement  to  protect  the  Capital  it  was, 
that  brought  about  the  curious  desertion  of  neighbor- 
hoods so  often  noted  in  the  Northern  memoirs  of 
the  time.  Ride  for  miles  through  the  rich  country 
weighted  with  neglected  crops,  and  you  might  see 
only  improvident  negroes  left  in  charge,  stock  wander- 
ing in  woods  or  fields,  hospitable  manor  houses  or 
farm-houses  with  shutters  closed  and  chimneys  send- 
ing forth  no  smoke — a  Canaan  for  tramps  and  weary 
foot-soldiers ! 

Inside  the  beleaguered  city,  people  had  their  full 
share  of  trial,  but  it  was  better,  they  agreed,  than  the 
uncertainty  of  the  excluded.  Hardly  was  there  to  be 
found  a  house  among  the  substantial  dwellings  set 
back  in  the  magnolia-shaded  gardens  of  the  chief 
streets,  that  had  not  sent  its  male  creature  to 
strengthen  the  line  of  steel  about  the  town.  Most  of 
the  humble  homes,  as  well,  had  given  their  treasures. 
These  men  were  literally  defending  hearth-stones,  and 
banded  with  volunteers  as  ardent  as  themselves,  were 
soon  to  fight  with  the  fury  and  devotion  of  their  for- 
bears in  all  history. 

From  the  women  and  non-combatants  left  behind, 
there  arose  and  swelled  toward  the  army  one  of  those 
waves  of  spontaneous  and  exalted  gratitude  that  nerve 
the  soul  to  any  trial  while  the  energies  are  in  action. 
In   the    dreadful    hospital    preparations,  that    in    the 


204  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

South  became  drawing-room  work  and  a  part  of 
domestic  life  everywhere,  gentle  and  simxple,  residents 
and  "refugees"  joined.  Of  the  tremendous  strain  they 
were  under,  there  was  no  time  to  think.  Outwardly 
calm  and  collected,  crushing  down  the  sick  fear  of 
what  might  be  to  come,  each  gave  a  daily  offering, 
nor  counted  it  a  tax. 

One  little  scene  of  every  day,  to  show  the  common 
lot !  On  the  morning  of  the  battle  of  "Seven  Pines"  or 
"Fair  Oaks,"  as  it  is  variously  known,  young  Richard 
Throckmorton  spurred  his  horse  along  muddy  roads, 
bearing  a  message  from  camp  to  the  Executive  in 
Richmond.  During  the  half  hour  that  must  elapse  be- 
fore an  answer  to  his  Chief  could  be  prepared,  he  gal- 
loped up  the  shady  street  where  his  wife  had  found 
shelter  with  some  friends. 

Bell,  sewing  behind  the  bowed  shutters  of  the  draw- 
ing-room, caught  sight  through  the  pink  snow  of  the 
crape  myrtles  that  shaded  the  garden  gate  of  her 
young  Captain  of  cavalry  dismounting.  With  a  scream 
of  delight  she  ran  out  to  meet  him,  and,  regardless  of 
passers-by, — who  were  indeed  all  sympathizers,  and  to 
whom  these  little  outbursts  were  too  common  to  be 
remarked, — threw  around  Dick's  neck  two  lovely  arms, 
from  which  the  summ.er  sleeves  had  floated  back,  and 
laid  upon  the  Captain's  insignia  embroidered  on  his 
collar,  a  cheek  of  peach-blow  hue. 

"Dick,  Dick,  how  glorious  that  you  have  come   to- 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  205 

day,"  she  cried.  "Hurry,  hurry  into  my  room  before 
he's  gone  to  sleep.  Will  you  believe,  I  saw  it  first  this 
morning?" 

"What?     Where?"  said  bewildered  Captain  Dick. 

"Of  course,  I  mean  his  tooth,"  answered  she  disdain- 
fully. 

And  there  on  a  pillow,  moist  and  pink  and  beauti- 
ful, lay  Dick's  first-born,  crowing  unconscious  of  the 
turmoil  of  the  hour.  At  sight  of  him  and  his  radiant 
mother  hovering  over,  the  young  man,  who  had  not 
slept  a  wink  all  night,  who  was  mud-splashed  to  his 
middle,  dizzy  with  riding  in  the  sun,  and  hungry  as  a 
hawk,  felt  his  heart  leap  in  happiness. 

Bonnibel  enthroned  him  in  an  easy-chair,  brought 
food  and  cooling  drinks  and  fans,  while  chatting  cease- 
lessly of  him  and  herself  and  the  baby.  Dick,  dread- 
ing to  break  the  spell  of  exquisite  repose,  answered 
her  hardly  at  all.  She  had  evidently  no  idea  of  his 
mission,  and  with  love  shining  in  his  blue  eyes,  he 
gazed  at  her  as  they  sat  hand  in  hand  above  the  baby's 
crib.  Then,  mingling  with  the  honey  of  her  voice 
distilled  upon  his  ear,  came  a  long,  low,  rumbling 
sound  that  jarred  on  the  sultry  air.  "Oh,  what  is  it?" 
faltered  the  wife  seeing  him  spring  to  his  feet. 

"It's  the  guns!  The  fight's  begun,"  Dick  said 
hoarsely.     "And  I've  no  right  to  be  here." 

It  was  but  a  moment  he  gave  himself  to  kiss  her 
baby  first  and  then  Bell,  on  eyes,  and  cheeks,  and  lips; 


2o6  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

to  strain  her  to  his  fiercely  beating  heart.  Neither 
spoke,  and  no  words  could  have  availed.  With  a  chill 
as  of  death  upon  him,  Dick  strode  down  the  garden 
walk  with  clanking  sword  and  spurs,  and  vaulted  upon 
his  horse.  Through  her  tears  she  saw  his  boyish  figure 
in  the  stained  gray  uniform  bend  to  the  saddle-bow  as 
he  waved  his  cap  and  tried  to  smile.  Another  rumble, 
cut  short  by  the  receding  gallop  of  Dick's  horse !  Bell 
staggered  back  into  the  room  and  snatching  up  her 
baby  held  him  to  her  heart  to  still  its  pain. 

And  again,  and  again,  and  again  sounded  the  cannon 
of  Seven  Pines!  Until  sunset,  it  did  not  cease.  Till 
far  into  the  night  people  in  Richmond  thronged  the 
pavements,  eager  for  tidings.  "Victory  for  the  South," 
was  the  word  passed  from  lip  to  lip,  and  then — the 
ambulances  came!  Wagons,  carts,  caissons,  were 
among  the  vehicles  impressed  for  this  drear  proces- 
sion, some  bound  for  the  temporary  hospitals  fitted  up 
in  buildings  cleared  for  the  occasion,  some  to  halt  be- 
fore private  dwellings,  where  their  stopping  stilled  the 
heart-beats  of  the  occupants  till  after  the  worst  was 
known.  Victory,  and  a  repulse  of  the  enemy !  How 
hard  to  realize  their  worth  in  the  presence  of  dead  and 
dying,  wounded  and  suffering,  who  by  dawn  of  the 
first  of  June  appeared  to  fill  the  town!  By  this  time 
again  the  guns  v/ere  at  their  bloody  Avork,  and  a  blaz- 
ing sun  poured  its  intolerable  heat  upon  the  crowded 
thoroughfares ! 


PLOWEk  BE  HUNDRED.  207 

Early  on  that  Sunday  morning,  a  messenger  brought 
to  Bell  a  note  from  Dick  telling  her  that  he  and  Miles 
were  safe,  but  that  the  dear  Colonel,  receiving  a  severe 
wound  in  the  right  arm,  had  been  taken  to  a  private 
hospital  in  Grace  Street,  where  she  was  bidden  to  go 
with  all  haste  and  devote  herself  to  him.  Bell,  in  her 
hysterical  delight  over  her  own  good  tidings,  kissed 
the  smoke-stained  billet,  and  hastened  to  do  its  behest. 

She  found  the  old  man  weak  from  loss  of  blood. 
They  had  amputated  his  arm ;  and,  at  his  age,  there 
was  grave  danger  from  exhaustion.  But  he  was  calm 
and  quiet,  and  gave  her  a  sweet  smile  of  greeting.  It 
was  characteristic  of  the  courteous  gentleman  that  he 
should  have  first  motioned  to  her  to  preserve  her  mus- 
lin gown  from  the  blood  that  still  oozed  from  his  ban- 
daged stump.  Dazed  from  the  chloroform,  when  she 
bent  over  him  to  fan  his  forehead  and  supply  a  drop  of 
stimulant,  he  called  her  "wife"  and  "Mildred,"  bidding 
her  not  to  cry,  since  Phil  had  come  through  the  battle 
without  harm. 

Bell,  with  her  nurse  and  baby,  took  up  her  abode  in 
the  house  of  which  the  Colonel  had  a  little  room  in  the 
third  story.  An  attic,  hastily  cleared  of  rubbish,  and 
cleaned  for  their  accommodation,  contained  a  mattress 
on  the  floor  for  her,  when  she  could  snatch  time  for 
rest.  The  heat  was  intolerable,  the  resources  for  com- 
fort few,  and  o'n  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day,  when 
Miles  rode  in  from  the  front  to  look  after  his  grand- 


2o8  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

father,  he  found,  to  his  alarm,  that  the  child  was 
sickening,  and  that  Bell  might  not,  without  danger  to 
its  life,  be  allowed  to  remain  at  her  present  post. 

The  Colonel,  making  better  progress  than  they  had 
dared  to  expect,  would  not  hear  of  her  remaining; 
and  Miles,  with  a  heart-felt  sigh  for  the  presence  of 
Cousin  Polly,  started  on  a  weary  quest  in  search  of  a 
proper  nurse.  What  at  another  time  would  have 
been  an  easy  matter,  was  made  difficult  by  the  tax 
put  upon  the  generous  townspeople  by  the  numbers 
of  sufferers  for  whom  their  preparations  had  proved 
inadequate.  With  listless  steps  he  walked  under 
floods  of  withering  sunshine  over  the  burning  bricks 
of  the  sidewalks,  turning  away  from  house  after  house 
w^ience  nobody  could  be  spared,  and  finally  engaging, 
in  despair,  a  man  of  whose  skill  he  could  not  feel  con- 
fident. Returning  to  Grace  Street  with  his  prize  in 
tow,  he  climbed  the  uncarpeted  stairway.  In  the 
sound,  of  a  woman's  draperies  upon  the  landing  near 
the  Colonel's  room,  he  divined  some  one  of  the  anx- 
ious friends  who  were  daily  coming  to  offer  service. 
What  was  his  delight  at  the  apparition,  at  the  head  of 
the  last  flight,  of  the  tall,  stately  young  person,  who 
greeted  him  with  finger  upon  lip. 

"Hush!"  she  whispered,"!  came  directly  you  had 
left,  and  he's  been  dozing  ever  since.  The  very  best 
sleep  he's  had,  Dr.  Ferguson  says." 

"Ursula!     Have  you  dropped  out  of  the  skies?" 


FLOWER   DE  HUNDRED.  209 

"No,"  she  said,  blushing  at  his  warmth.  "Quite 
the  contrary.     I've  been  running  the  blockade." 

"Alone?"  he  said,  darkling. 

"Oh,  no !  I  had  refugees  in  plenty.  More  than  I 
cared  for,  and  almost  no  adventures.  We  were  in 
Washington  when  the  news  of  the  battle  came,  and  I 
saw  his  name  in  the  list  of  Confederate  wounded. 
After  that,  cart  ropes  couldn't  have  held  me  there." 

"But  your  aunt — your  uncle?" 

"I  believe  I  frightened  them  into  giving  their  con- 
sent. My  uncle  went  off  saying  he  washed  his  hands 
of  me — but  she  was,  oh,  so  good!  A  shall  be  grateful 
to  her  always.  She  found  people  coming  South  and 
helped  me  in  every  way.  Oh,  Miles,  she  saw — every- 
body must  have  seen — that,  rather  than  not  get  to 
him  I'd  have  crawled  on  my  hands  and  knees." 

"My  dear,  brave  little  Nutty,"  he  began,  taking  her 
hand  to  stroke  it,  and  then  stopped,  struck  by  the 
incongruity  of  his  diminutive. 

While  she  whispered  her  tale  of  travels,  his  eyes 
took  in  with  keen  appreciation  the  lines  of  her  splen- 
did form,  the  deepened  luster  of  her  wide  brown 
eyes,  the  indescribable  rounding  into  graceful  woman- 
hood of  his  whilom  boyish  comrade.  Coming  to  him 
in  this  moment  of  sore  need,  linked  to  him  by  a  com- 
mon sympathy  amid  these  poor  surroundings,  she 
shone  like  a  star  of  hope.  Whatever  impressions  of 
their    interview    Ursula    in   turn    derived,    they   were 


2IO  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

merged,  with  every  energy  of  her  nature,  into  the  task 
of  winning  their  beloved  invalid  back  from  the  jaws 
of  death. 

In  this.  Miles  returning  at  once  to  duty,  she  was 
aided  by  old  Saul,  who,  following,  dog-like,  his  master 
to  the  war,  had,  in  the  first  day  of  the  fight,  been 
stunned  by  a  spent  ball  and  left  on  the  field  for  dead. 
Coming  to  life  like  a  chilled  fly  upon  a  sun-warmed 
pane  of  glass,  Saul  had  made  his  slow  way  to  Rich- 
mond and  so  to  the  Colonel's  side. 

"No,  I'se  'bleeged  to  you.  Miss  Nutty  an'  Marse 
Miles,"  the  patriarch  had  said,  when  urged  by  them 
to  retire  and  take  his  rest,  "my  duty's  to  my  mistis, 
an'  I  kyant  think  o'  leaving  Marse  Richard  to  no 
young  folks's  hands.  When  I'se  ready  to  gin  out, 
you'll  hear  it,  and  not  before.  Reckon  I  aint  put  dat 
ar  little  Doctor  Ferguson  out'n  my  pantry,  along  wi' 
Marse  Miles,  many  a  time,  fo'  rummagin'  de  dishes  I 
dun  sot  out  for  dessart?  Think  I'm  gwine  to  trus'  my 
master  wid  any  little  shavers  like  dat,  widout  watchin* 
out  to  see  dey  don'  play  no  tricks?" 

In  vain  Ursula  pleaded  the  skill,  the  unflagging  care 
of  the  young  assistant  surgeon  by  whom  his  old 
friend  was  served  so  tenderly;  Saul  was  obdurate, 
keeping  vigil  by  the  bed  like  Fine  Ear  of  the  fairy 
tale,  quick  to  detect  the  faintest  movement  of  the 
sufferer  and  to  forestall  his  wants. 

Installed  in  her  attic  chamber,  living  from  hand  to 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED,  211 

mouth  and  in  dire  discomfort  although  she  was,  Ur- 
sula felt  happier  than  before  in  months.  A  daily  visit 
from  Bonnibel,  a  glimpse  at  Miles  whenever  he  could 
get  off  for  a  gallop  into  town,  the  sympathy  of  kind 
people  who  pressed  around  them  with  every  offer  that 
good  feeling  could  desire, — above  all,  the  sense  that 
her  vigorous  health  and  rich  vitality  were  now  of  the 
utmost  service  to  her  beloved  Colonel, — nerved  her 
continually. 

But  it  was  a  hard  time  for  all  of  them.  The  stifling 
heat,  the  cruel  lack  of  ice  during  that  battle-summer, 
the  suffering  in  the  town  that  was  now  one  vast  hos- 
pital, made  the  June  days  seem  twice  their  torrid 
length  and  the  nights  as  bad.  Just  when  the  Colonel 
gave  some  faint  indication  of  a  rally  that  might  be 
counted  upon  as  permanent,  Bonnibel's  baby  showed 
symptoms  of  again  succumbing  to  the  heat,  and  to 
save  it  the  young  mother  was  forced  to  make  all 
speed  to  the  hill-country,  in  a  direction  in  which  the 
railway  lines  were  fortunately  open. 

Bell  had  not  seen  her  husband  since  the  day  of 
Seven  Pines.  Except  when  on  special  service,  every 
man  held  to  his  post,  in  front.  Heavy-hearted  at  the 
despairing  necessity  of  leaving  town  without  another 
glimpse  of  him,  she  set  out  for  a  region  remote  from 
the  stir  of  war.  Ursula,  taking  time  from  her  own 
busy  day — for  in  addition  to  her  care  for  the  Colonel, 
she  had  assumed  duties  as  a  volunteer  nurse  in  other 


212  FLOWER  BE   HUXDRED. 

wards  of  the  little  hospital — to  see  Dick's  little  family 
off,  turned  back  again  to  her  patients  with  a  sigh.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  the  air  was  full  of  the  partings  of 
those  who  loved. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  she  received 
from  an  orderly  dispatched  by  Miles,  information  that 
a  body  of  cavalry  to  Avhich  Dick  was  attached  had  set 
out  that  morning  on  an  expedition  of  which  the  aim 
was  not  announced,  but  which,  in  view  of  the  rations 
taken,  would  presumably  be  short.  Miles's  note  in- 
closed one  scribbled  on  a  leaf  of  his  pocket-book  to 
his  grandfather,  from  Dick. 

"God  bless  you  and  all  my  dear  ones.  For  us  this 
move  is  glorious.  An3^thing's  better  than  such  harass- 
ing waits  between  the  acts.  We  start,  presently,  none 
of  us  know  whither;  but,  with  Stuart  at  the  fore,  w^iat 
matters  it?  I  shall  have  never  heard  the  bugles  sing 
out  'Boots  and  Saddles'  with  a  gladder  heart.  If  I 
don't  come  back,  you  and  Miles  will  take  care  of  her 
and  ///;;/,  I  know — 

"R.T." 

"Ah,  me !  I'd  have  liked  to  see  my  lad  before  he 
started,"  said  the  Colonel  wistfully,  after  Ursula  had 
finished  reading  him  these  lines.  "And  I'd  like 
mightily  to  know  what  Jeb  Stuart's  little  game  is,  in 
this  move." 

Doubts  upon  this  score  were,  a  few  days  later,  set 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  213 

conclusively  at  rest,  by  the  announcement  to  the 
expectant  public  of  an  event  chronicled  in  the  Rich- 
mond journals,  under  head-lines,  as  below : 

"A  Brilliant  Reconnoissance  by  Stuart's  Cavalry — 
They  make  the  Circuit  of  the  Enemy's  Lines  on  the 
Chickahominy — Capture  and  Dispersion  of  Yankee 
Cavalry — Burning  of  Three  Transports  in  the  Pamun- 
key — Capture  and  Destruction  of  a  Wagon  Train — A 
Railroad  Train  Surprised,  etc.,  etc." 

This  much  for  glory  and  a  little  niche  in  history ! 
Farther  down  the  column  and  in  much  smaller  type, 
among  the  few  casualties  of  the  brilliant  raid  with 
whose  praises  the  Southern  country  rang,  was  men- 
tioned the  lamented  death,  while  leading  his  men  in  a 
fierce  hand  to  hand  skirmish  with  a  squadron  of  the 
enemy's  cavalry  whom  they  had  put  to  rout,  of 
Captain  Richard  Throckmorton  of  the  — th  Virginia 
cavalry. 

At  the  moment  when  Dick,  shot  through  the  body 
with  five  balls,  fell  from  his  horse  upon  the  roadside, 
his  comrades  were  borne  impetuously  forward  in  pur- 
suit of  a  flying  column  of  the  enemy,  another  pressing 
them  upon  the  rear,  and  the  spot  was  for  a  time 
deserted.  They  found  him — the  skirmish  ended — 
lying  upon  his  back  amid  the  ferns,  looking  straight 
upward  to  the  sky  with  a  smile  upon  his  lips.  One  of 
the  bullets  had  shivered  the  glass  of  Bonnibel's  picture 
on  his  breast,  staining  it  with  his  blood.     While  his 


214  FLOWER  BE  HUNDRED. 

troopers  sorrowing  and  uncertain  stood  around  their 
young  leader's  body,  the  General,  who  had  heard  of 
the  occurrence,  rode  up,  his  genial  face  dark  and 
drawn  with  grief.  Situated  as  the  Confederates  then 
were,  well  in  the  rear  of  McClellan's  army  and  likely 
at  any  moment  to  be  attacked  by  Federal  cavalry 
desiring  to  cut  off  their  retreat,  the  Chief  decided  to 
send  the  body  to  Dick's  own  home,  in  charge  of  old 
Jock  who  had  been  the  young  man's  constant  attend- 
ant in  the  field 

Hands  tender  as  women's  lifted  the  dead  Captain 
across  the  saddle,  the  horse  standing  intelligently  still 
while  his  burden  was  bound  in  place.  Jock,  mount- 
ing his  own  steed,  took  both  bridles — every  hat  was 
doffed,  every  head  bowed. 

A  moment  later,  the  Confederates  were  in  saddle 
and  sweeping  forward  like  a  cloud  driven  by  the  wind 
to  rejoin  their  advancing  column,  and  their  dead  com- 
rade was  alone  with  Jock. 

In  the  bright  light  of  a  full  moon,  the  old  negro 
journeyed  with  his  charge.  To  avoid  notice,  he  had 
remained  until  nightfall  in  a  secluded  wood.  Once 
only,  he  encountered  a  Federal  vidette,  but  after  a 
few  questions  and  answers  was  allowed  to  pass  unmo- 
lested on  his  way — the  soldiers  in  blue  falling  back 
reverently  when  the  moon  shone  on  the  still  face  of 
the  dead.  And  at  sunrise  next  morning,  the  heir  of 
Flower  de  Hundred  came  into  his  own. 


FLOWER  BE   HUNDRED.  215 

There  was  bitter  lamenting  among  the  negroes 
remaining  on  the  place.  Old  Judy  left  her  chimney- 
side  to  perform  with  her  own  hands  the  last  rites  of 
the  toilet  for  her  boy.  Jock,  with  the  help  of  another 
ancient,  fashioned  the  rude  coffin  in  which  covered 
from  sight  with  flowers  they  carried  Dick  across  the 
field-path  to  the  little  church. 

It  was  to  her  who  had  made  of  him  an  idol,  that  all 
eyes  turned  in  affectionate  solicitude.  She  was  very 
quiet,  sitting  at  his  head,  changing  here  and  there  a 
spray  of  the  white  Lamarque  roses  he  had  aided  her  to 
plant,  and  stroking  his  flaxen  locks  until  they  came  to 
carry  him  away.  Cousin  Polly,  who  had  broken  to  her 
this  news,  so  soon  following  that  of  her  son's  wound, 
pleaded  with  her  not  to  be  present  at  the  interment. 
But  she  answered  that,  since  in  their  isolated  position 
it  was  impossible  to  secure  the  services  of  a  clergyman 
•  at  the  grave,  she  had  determined  to  take  the  duty  on 
herself. 

Gathered  about  the  yawning  space  they  stood — the 
ladies,  Sampson,  who  could  not  see  for  crying,  and  the 
negroes — while  in  a  clear  voice,  audible  to  all  present, 
the  aged  saint  read  or  recited  the  funeral  service  of  the 
Church. 

Some  marveled  at  the  peace  upon  her  face  as  she 
turned  her  last  look  upon  her  darling's  new-made 
grave.  They  could  not  see  that  in  her  eyes  it  was  but 
the  shutting  of  a  gate  that  must  open  soon  for  her. 


2l6  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

This  episode  of  the  battle-summer  impelled  an  old 
man  upon  his  bed  of  pain  in  Richmond  to  turn  groan- 
ine  to  the  wall  and  beg  God  to  take  him  too ;  and  it 
flashed  over  the  wires  to  Dick's  wife,  sitting  with  her 
ailing  child  upon  her  knees,  and  blotted  the  sunshine 
from  her  world. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"Come,  Ursula,  it  is  your  duty  to  yourself,"  urged 
Miles. 

She  gave  him  a  wan  smile,  and  handing  her  fan  to 
Saul  rose  up  from  the  Colonel's  bedside.  The  critical 
relapse  of  her  patient  after  his  grandson's  death,  had 
taxed  to  the  utmost  even  her  superb  physique.  An 
outing  after  night-fall  was  now  her  chief  opportunity 
for  exercise.  Miles,  borne  down  under  the  weight  of 
sorrow  that  robbed  his  soldier  life  of  charm,  had  come 
into  town  to  look  after  them,  finding  the  Colonel  bet- 
ter but  listless  and  disinclined  to  rally,  and  his  young 
nurse  pale  and  weary. 

They  went  out  into  an  atmosphere  unrefreshed  by  a 
recent  thunder-storm,  and  freighted  to  oppression  with 
the  scent  of  rain-washed  flowers — an  atmosphere  so 
sluggish  that  it  seemed  by  burning  exhalations  to  re- 
sent even  disturbance  with  a  fan.  During  those  June 
days  in  the  great  hospital-camp,  the  chief  social  inter- 
change of  friends  was  thus  held  after  dark.  From  the 
houses  would  issue  bands  of  pilgrims,  white  robed, 
bareheaded,  carrying  palm  leaves,  longing  for  a  breeze 
that  came  not,  sauntering  slowly  under  the  gas-lamps, 
over  pavements  that  had  not  parted  with  their  noon- 

217 


2i8  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

tide  heat.  After  this  fashion,  greetings  and  inquiries 
were  exchanged,  movements  of  the  armies  were  dis- 
cussed, the  irrepressible  making  of  love  went  on ! 
When  visits  were  received,  it  was  always  upon  veran- 
das, or  sitting  on  the  front  steps.  Few  cared  to  linger 
in  rooms  where,  from  dawn  till  dawn  again,  no  drop  in 
temperature  was  perceived. 

Amid  all  other  pre-occupations,  it  was  clear  to  Ur- 
sula that  since  Dick's  death  an  excitement  to  which 
she  had  no  clew  had  been  fermenting  under  the  self- 
restraint  Miles  showed  to  the  world  at  large.  What- 
ever it  might  mean,  he  had  several  times  seemed  to 
be  upon  the  point  of  confiding  in  her,  and  on  each 
occasion  had  reined  himself  into  a  reserve  more  obsti- 
nate than  before.  As  they  walked  side  by  side,  grieved 
at  this  gloomy  silence,  she  turned  over  in  her  mind 
every  method  by  which  she  might  venture  to  explore 
his  depression.  W^oman-like,  in  her  solicitude  to  ease 
his  share  of  their  common  burden,  she  forgot  how  large 
a  portion  of  it  was  borne  on  her  own  slight  shoulders. 

"This  is  poor  entertainment  for  you,  Nutty,"  he  said, 
at  last,  rousing  into  consciousness  of  his  abstrac- 
tion. "It  looks  as  if  I  were  forgetting  that  you  are  a 
traveled  young  woman  now,  who  has  a  right  to  expect 
suavities  from  her  cavalier." 

-  "Nonsense,  Miles;  if  you  ever  begin  to  be  polite  to 
me,  I  shall  think  we  have  quarreled  in  dead  earnest. 
My  dear  boy,  nothing  can  blind  me  to  the  fact  that 


FLOWER  DE  HUXDRED.  219 

you've  some  trouble  on  your  mind,  over  and  above 
that  I  share  with  you." 

"God  help  me,  so  I  have,"  he  burst  out;  "and  if 
any  human  being  could  be  bettered  by  speaking  of  it, 
it  would  be  you  I'd  turn  to,  first." 

"That  ought  to  content  me.  But,  unfortunately,  it 
doesn't." 

"Rest  assured,  daughter  of  Eve,  that  there  is  noth- 
ing you  or  any  one  can  do  to  alter  the  situation. 
The  matter  is,  so  to  speak,  an  abstraction — a  case  of 
conscience,  if  you  will — and,  though  I've  looked  at  it 
in  every  aspect,  I  can  see  nothing  for  me  but  to  con- 
tinue to  hold  my  tongue." 

"It  would  relieve  you  to  speak  out?" 

"So  much  so,  that  I  have  never  felt  the  temptation 
as  strong  as  now.  But  there,  I'm  babbling  like  a  child. 
Talk  to  me  of  yourself,  of  the  dear  Colonel." 

"He  is  a  daily,  hourly  lesson  in  patience  and  forti- 
tude. In  his  sympathy  for  Bell,  his  own  grief  is  sub- 
merged. He  dreads  the  effect  of  this  new  blow  on 
Grandmamma;  but,  withal,  I've  seen  his  eye  light  up 
when  you  are  mentioned,  and  he  smiled — oh,  so 
sweetly,  when  I  read  Bell's  letter  saying  Dick's  boy 
grows  stronger  every  day.  My  dear  Miles,  what  ails 
you?" 

"I  suppose  it's  the  mental  strain.  My  nerves  are 
mere  fiddle-strings.  One  thing  is  certain,  that  you 
put  me   to  the  blush.     When  I  think  of  all  you   have 


220  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

undertaken — have  so  nobly  carried  out — and  see  you 
so  calm,  so  cool — " 

**I  shall  never  be  cool  again,"  she  said,  with  at- 
tempted cheerfulness.  "Let  us  take  this  street  lead- 
ing to  the  water.  I  love  the  voice  of  our  river  at  night 
when  the  town  is  still.  I  follow  it  in  thought  till  it 
flows  by  dear  Flower  de  Hundred.  Is  there  any  tie 
stronger  and  sweeter  than  the  one  linking  us  to  such 
a  home?  The  very  name  has  a  spell  in  it,  to  soothe 
and  charm  me — Miles,  I  wonder  if  I  may  speak  to  you 
of  something  about  yourself." 

"You,  if  any  one." 

"To-day  the  Colonel  said,  'This  little  chap  makes  a 
great  difference  to  Miles.'  After  a  while  he  went  on, 
T  am  glad  Dick's  will  named  Miles  as  guardian.  Dick 
knew — Dick  knew!'  " 

"How  loud  the  rapids  sound  !"  Miles  answered,  afraid 
of  the  tremor  in  his  voice. 

"The  matter  seemed  to  be  dwelling  on  his  mind,  for 
presently  he  said  again,  'Miles  would  have  been  mas- 
ter; it  is  what  I'd  have  wished.'  Then  he  fell  into  a 
doze,  and  roused  out  of  it,  crying,  'They  have  lopped 
its  branches,  but  the  old  trunk  still  remains !'  The 
effort  waked  him,  and  he  said,  'I  beg  your  pardon,  I 
had  forgotten  where  I  am ;  you  will  oblige  me  by 
putting  my  handkerchief  in  reach.'  And  with  his 
poor  left  hand,  I  saw  him  wipe  his  eyes." 

"By  Jove,  I'd   give  years  of  life  to  see  him  back  at 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  221 

the  plantation,"  Miles  said,  with  a  gulp.  "And  to 
think  he  may  die  here,  and  never  know  that  I  am — " 

''Never  know  that  you — ?" 

Miles  did  not  answer.  With  her  hand  still  upon  his 
arm,  they  paused  at  a  street  corner  for  the  passing  of 
an  officer's  funeral  on  its  way  to  Hollywood.  The 
band  preceding  the  coffin  smote  on  their  ears  with 
poignant  loud  lamenting,  then  carried  its  sorrow  to 
die  moaning  on  the  night.  As  the  shadowy  cortege 
filed  by — men  bearing  lanterns  on  either  side  the 
hearse — a  horse,  riderless,  with  boots  empty  in  the 
stirrups,  following — a  few  soldiers  carrying  arms  re- 
versed— a  single  carriage  with  mourners — the  effect  was 
infinitely  sad.  So  common  the  spectacle  during  the 
Battle  Summer,  it  did  not  occur  to  them  to  even  won- 
der which  of  our  martyrs  was  thus  journeying  to  his 
last  home. 

"The  end  of  soldiering!"  said  Miles,  recovering  his 
head.  "Ah  well,  my  dear,  there  is  more  than  a 
chance  that  this  kind  of  thing  may  soon  cut  my 
Gordian  knot  for  me.  If  it  comes,  Ursula,  you'll  re^ 
member  that  you  are  my  sole  executor." 

Ursula's  unexpected  answer  was  to  drop  her  head 
upon  his  arm  in  a  passionate  burst  of  tears. 

"My  dear  little  girl,  you  are  overwrought!"  he  said 
as  genuinely  distressed  as  he  was  surprised ;  for  she 
was  not  of  the  melting  kind.  Wisely  however,  he 
made   no   attempt  to  check  her.     Alone   in   an   unfre- 


22^  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

quented  street,  they  walked  slowly  until  her  emotion 
had  spent  its  force. 

"This  will  relieve  the  strain,"  he  went  on  soothingly. 
"Poor  long-suffering  little  heroine,  I  think  we  all  for- 
get that  it's  a  girl-creature  of  seventeen  who  is  our 
bulwark." 

With  a  caressing  touch  he  laid  his  hand  on  hers, 
but  Ursula  withdrawing  herself  almost  brusquely, 
wiped  her  eyes.  When  she  next  spoke  it  was  in 
her  ordinary  tone. 

"You  overestimate  my  services.  Do  I  not  owe  all 
I  have  done,  and  more  a  thousand  times,  to  the  one 
who  has  been  home  and  father  to  me?  I  am  only 
dreading  lest  in  some  way  Grandmamma  should  hear 
how  bad  his  condition  is,  for  nothing  would  keep  her 
from  him,  and  she  could  not  stand  our  life." 

"Yes,  she  is  a  flower  that  will  not  bear  transplant- 
ing," said  Miles  sighing.  "My  chief  fear  is  that  from 
the  situation  of  Flower  de  Hundred  the  house  will  be 
taken  as  headquarters,  or  as  a  hospital.  Then  they  will 
be  forced  to  push  into  town.  But  come,  in  the  little 
time  we  have  together  let  us  talk  of  brighter  things." 

"The  brightest  thing  I  have  seen  to-day  is  the  smile 

poor  little  Elliot,  the  Lieutenant  of  the Georgia, 

who  has  the  room  below  your  grandfather,  bestowed 
on  me  when  I  had  finished  writing  a  letter  for  him  to 
his  mother,  whose  only  son  he  is — so  brave,  so  confi- 
dent— and  I  know  they  believe  him  doomed — " 


FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED.  223 

"Ursula,  you  are  incorrigible.  Put  away  your  pa- 
tients for  one  half  hour,  and  act  and  feel  like  other 
young  women  of  your  age.  For  a  novelty,  take  a 
little  interest  in  me.  So  far  as  heard  from,  I  am  in 
full  possession  of  health  and  faculties  and  conse- 
quently   not    a   legitimate     object    of    solicitude— but 

still—" 

Ursula  laughed. 

"You  are  your  jealous,  petulant  old  self — "  she 
interrupted  him.  And  during  the  remainder  of  their 
walk  her  rather  bewildered  companion  fell  to  wonder- 
ing what  he  could  have  done  or  said  that  had  set 
between  them  a  sHght  but  evident  barrier. 

At  the  house  door,  they  stood  aside  to  give  passage 
to  two  rigid,  sheeted  forms,  carried  out,  uncofifined,  to 
be  put  in  the  army  wagon  that  was  to  transport  them 
to  the  morgue.  As  the  heavy  vehicle  rumbled  off, 
Ursula  ascertained,  to  her  dismay,  that  one  of  the 
bodies  thus  unceremoniously  hurried  from  the  com- 
pany of  the  living  was  that  of  her  young  friend  Elliot, 
who  had  died  since  she  left  the  hospital. 

Shocked  beyond  measure,  she  gave  way  to  a  fresh 
burst  of  weeping,  hurriedly  mounting  the  stairs  with 
a  new  sense  of  the  intolerable  weight  of  war— Miles 
following,  scarcely  less  hopeful  of  the  dawn  that  was 
to  succeed  their  darkest  hour. 

And  now  what  was  this  dream  of  the  oppressive 
summer's  night  that   brought  before  their  eyes,  seated 


524  PLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

beside  the  patient,  her  snow-flake  hand  resting  upon 
his  head,  the  small  fair  shape  of  Grandmamma?  What 
witchery  of  imagination  had  planted  in  their  path 
Cousin  Polly,  tearful  but  smiling,  her  fond  arms  out- 
stretched? 

It  was  no  time  to  ask  or  answer  questions.  As  they 
came  into  his  room,  the  sufferer,  who  had  been  lying 
with  closed  eyes,  stirred  and  looked  about  him.  Then, 
Grandmamma,  calling  him  by  her  pet  name  of  "Rit- 
chie," bade  him  "be  good  and  go  to  sleep." 

They  saw  a  wan  smile  flit  across  the  old  soldier's 
face;  and,  feeling  for  his  mother's  hand  to  carry  it  to 
his  lips,  he  again  closed  his  eyes,  and,  child-like,  com- 
posed himself  to  rest. 

"Oh,  he  will  be  better  now,"  whispered  Ursula,  with 
a  glad  bound  of  the  heart. 

Late  that  night,  sharing  Ursula's  pallet  beneath  the 
roof  in  a  stifling  atmosphere.  Cousin  Polly  recounted 
to  eager  ears  the  happenings  at  Flower  de  Hundred 
that  had  brought  about  their  unexpected  journey 
through  the  lines. 

"Of  course,  if  you  had  known  it,  my  dear,  you'd 
have  all  been  doubly  wretched ;  so  it's  just  as  well 
you  didn't — "  averred  the  practical  narrator. 

Let  us,  with  Ursula,  hear  of  the  strange  flitting 
from  Flower  de  Hundred. 

The  ladies  had  kept  up  bravely  until  the  massing  of 
Union    troops  on  the  Peninsula,  and    the  assemblage 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED,  225 

of  gunboats  in  the  river,  made  it  clear  they  could  no 
longer  hope  to  preserve  their  home  from  the  depreda- 
tions of  an  idle  soldiery.  Day  after  day  Sampson  came 
in  with  a  longer  face  and  a  budget  more  full  of  petty 
annoyances,  and  at  last  advised  his  employers  of  his 
intention  to  "quit  work  for  a  spell,"  and  go  North 
to  look  up  a  sister  residing  in  the  rural  districts  of 
New  Hampshire.  The  honest  fellow,  owning  himself 
"tuckered  out,"  in  health  and  spirit,  "ruther  guessed" 
the  ladies  would  find  it  to  their  best  advantage  to 
allow  the  house  to  be  occupied  as  Headquarters  by 
a  conspicuous  General,  who  had  signified  his  willing- 
ness  to  thus  possess  it. 

Perplexed,  and  unwilling  to  own  herself  driven  from 
the  field,  Miss  Polly  could  not  gainsay  his  arguments. 
Feeling  that  the  debt  they  owed  their  counsellor  was 
not  one  to  be  paid  in  money,  and  recognizing  the  com- 
mon sense  of  his  advice,  fearing  of  all  things  to  harass 
with  this  discussion  the  old  lady,  now  visibly  broken, 
she  bowed  to  the  inevitable  and  set  about  hasty 
preparations  to  forsake  their  home. 

Taking  into  consukation  Judy,  Duke,  and  a  few 
others  of  the  negroes  upon  whom  she  might  rely  to 
guard  the  property,  she  determined  to  journey  in  the 
family  coach  over  the  more  than  thirty  miles  of  roads 
intervening  between  Richmond  and  the  plantation. 
"Any  one  with  half  an  eye,"  declared  Miss  Polly,  "can 
see  we  are  a  couple  of  harmless  old  women  traveling 


226  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

about  our  own  affairs.  If  we  are  challenged  by  our 
own  soldiers,  it  is  sure  to  come  all  right ;  and  if  the 
Yankees  disapprove  of  us  on  general  principles,  they 
will  never  be  able  to  resist  'Old  Miss,'  especially  when 
they  hear  it's  a  mother  going  to  see  her  wounded  son. 
Isaac,  of  course,  will  drive  us,  and  we'll  need  Phyllis  to 
wait  on  her  mistress.  One  of  the  wagons  with  a  pair 
of  mules  will  take  our  luggage.  It  isn't  the  first  time 
in  history  that  a  mistress  of  Flower  de  Hundred  has 
been  driven  from  home  in  war-time ;  and,  feeble 
though  she  may  be,  dear  Aunt's  spirit  will  carry  her 
through  all.  Besides,"  she  concluded,  a  throb  of  pain 
assailing  her  valiant  heart,  "He  that  watches  over  the 
sparrow's  fall  will  not  suffer  harm  to  come  to  a  saint 
so  near  to  her  reward." 

Miss  Polly,  once  decided,  went  at  her  preparations 
with  Napoleonic  intrepidity  and  dash.  And  now,  at 
the  hour  of  midnight,  behold  in  the  familiar  rooms  of 
the  old  mansion,  when  all  others  on  the  plantation 
were  wrapped  in  slumber,  a  band  of  conspirators  in- 
cluding Sampson  and  the  negroes  admitted  to  confi- 
dence, at  unaccustomed  work.  Mounted  upon  step- 
ladders,  they  detached  from  their  nails  upon  the  wain- 
scoting and  enveloped  in  blankets  and  bed-quilts,  Guy 
the  founder,  the  Lady  Mary  with  her  lute,  the  gloomy 
Earl,  Kneller's  Miles  the  debonair  and  his  smiling 
spouse  Lydia,  heartbroken  Ursula  with  her  sheep,  the 
Burgesses,  redcoats,  Continentals,  all  of  that  unwinking 


FLOWER  DE  HUXDRED.  227 

company  henceforth  doomed  to  imprisonment  in  the 
stone  chamber  built  after  the  Revolutionary  war,  and 
receiving  their  decree  of  exile  with,  it  must  be  said, 
praiseworthy  phlegm. 

Lowered  into  Cimmerian  depths,  these  worthies 
were  safely  masked  with  boards,  and  barricaded  with 
boxes  containing  books,  household  ornaments,  and 
family  papers,  the  whole  heaped  with  hay.  Then 
Sampson,  emerging  v/ith  cobwebbed  hair  and  smutty 
countenance  again  into  the  upper  world,  withdrew 
the  ladder  that  had  aided  their  descent,  replacing 
the  rusty  machinery  of  the  old  well  long  familiar  to 
the  spot. 

Such  silver  as  could  not  be  carried  into  Richmond 
was  buried  in  pits  dug  in  the  cellar  of  the  house.  A 
sad  interment  by  the  light  of  lanterns,  to  which  Miss 
Polly,  a  laugh  on  her  lips  and  tears  in  her  eyes,  lent 
yeoman's  assistance  with  her  little  garden  spade. 

Not  to  risk  all  in  one  place  of  concealment,  other 
household  goods  were  intrusted  to  the  care  of  Judy, 
who  weepingly  declared,  "Ef  dat  ar  waugh  was  to 
last  a  thousan'  years.  Miss  Polly,  honey,  wen  it  lets 
out  you'll  find  ole  Judy  a-settin'  on  dis  chist." 

The  rising  sun  looked  through  the  windows  upon  a 
home  wearing  a  sad  likeness  to  its  former  cheerful  self. 
Bare  spaces  were  on  the  walls,  all  of  the  little  litterings 
of  everyday,  books  and  ornaments,  were  missing.  The 
ladies,  equipped  for  traveling,  turning  neither  right  nor 


2  28  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

left,  hurried  through  the  rooms  to  their  carriage  in 
waiting  on  the  drive.- 

The  iron  gates  wrought  in  England  a  century  be- 
fore and  surmounted  by  the  familiar  wyvern  crest, 
swung  stiffly  back,  shaking  the  dew  from  the  honey- 
suckle that  entwined  them,  to  fall  as  if  in  a  shower  of 
tears. 

To  the  negroes,  coming  up  from  the  quarter  to  see 
the  quality  set  out,  this  was  nothing  more  than  the 
yearly  excursion  to  ''the  Springs."  Sampson,  stolid 
but  inwardly  disconsolate,  knew  better,  and  so  did 
Judy,  who  waddling  to  the  carriage  laid  in  Miss 
Polly's  lap  a  basket  of  fresh  figs  plucked  from  Miles's 
garden  plot  for  "Mammy's  boy"! 

Miss  Polly  sat  bolt  upright,  distributing  good-byes  in 
her  lively  off-hand  way.  Her  secret  anxiety  was  for 
the  fragile  old  lady  at  her  side,  who  while  they  were  in 
sight  of  it  kept  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  church-yard 
with  its  gleaming  stones. 

Passing  out  of  the  gates,  they  were  curiously  con- 
scious of  an  unwonted  sound.  It  was  that  of  the  clos- 
ing in  summer  of  the  great  hall  door. 

"Courage,  ole  Miss!"  said  Miss  Polly,  with  a  spirit 
she  did  not  feel.     "It  will  be  only  for  a  little  while." 

"Only  a  little  while,"  echoed  the  aged  lips  patiently. 

There  was  no  sign  in  the  peaceful  landscape  of  the 
forces  already  at  work  that  in  a  fev^-  weeks'  time  were 
to  lay  it  waste.     Well  for  our  travelers  they  were  not 


FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED.  229 

to  see  these  fields  of  grain  trampled  by  the  hoofs  of 
horses,  by  the  tread  of  battalions,  by  the  wheels  of  bat- 
tery and  division  wagons,  these  roads  one  vast  slough  of 
tenacious  mud  ingulphing  forsaken  ambulances,  spiked 
guns,  burning  stores,  cast-away  uniforms  and  mus- 
kets— all  the  debris  of  a  mighty  army  in  retreat. 

Resting  -for  the  night  at  the  house  of  friends,  the 
ladies  pursued  upon  the  morrow  their  journey  into  the 
Confederate  lines.  Meeting  by  good  chance  with  no 
serious  interruption,  they  were  escorted  into  Rich- 
mond from  the  outposts  by  soldiers,  from  whom  the 
old  lady's  sweet  face  crowned  with  silver  hair  elicited 
more  of  gallant  service  than  they  would  have  offered 
had  she  been  young  and  pretty,  Cousin  Polly  said. 

"So,  what  with  kindness  all  along  the  way,"  con- 
cluded her  narrator,  "and  Aunt  holding  out  so  well, 
our  getting  here  was  as  easy  as  rocking  in  a  chair. 
They  all  say,  though,  we  were  not  a  day  too  soon,  as 
a  fight  is  imminent.  Now,  Ursula,  it's  plain  that 
Richard  will  never  get  well  in  air  like  this,  and  it'll 
just  kill  your  Grandmamma;  so  I  mean  to  see  Jack 
Ferguson  and  the  other  surgeon,  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning,  and  get  the  whole  party  of  us  packed  off  to 
the  country  to  poor  dear  Bonnibel." 

It  was  a  family  belief  that  circumstances  yielded  to 
Cousin  Polly's  will  like  the  coon  that  came  down  the 
tree  when  Captain  Scott  took  aim.  Certain  it  was 
that  one  obstacle  after  another  disappeared  before  her, 


230  FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED. 

and  in  an  incredibly  short  time  she  had  accomplished 
the  removal  of  the  invalid  from  town. 

Attended  by  his  three  devotees, — five,  it  should  be 
said,  to  include  Saul  and  Phyllis, — the  Colonel  was 
comfortably  ensconced  in  a  farm-house  far  from  the 
noise  of  strife,  where  Bonnibel  and  her  boy  were 
already  lodged. 

The  poor  young  widow's  greeting  of  them  was  hys- 
terically glad.  The  sight  of  her  in  a  cheap  black 
frock,  bought  in  the  village  shop  and  fashioned  by 
her  own  fingers,  the  change  wrought  upon  her  beauty 
by  days  and  nights  of  weeping,  her  pathetic  clinging 
to  the  little  bundle  of  cambric  she  would  hardly  let 
out  of  her  arms,  affected  Ursula  powerfully.  She  felt 
that  such  a  loss  was  the  rending  of  soul  from  body, 
beside  which  all  else  was  light.  Her  first  realizing 
sense  of  the  might  and  meaning  of  the  marriage-bond 
came  to  her  with  Bonnlbel's  desolation,  and  sent  the 
girl  often  into  seclusion  with  bitter  tears  for  '*a  sor- 
row that  might  be  to  come,  a  sorrow  she  knew  not 
what." 

Bell's  best  comforter  was  little  Grandmamma. 
These  two  women,  the  one  with  her  feet  upon  the 
brink  of  eternity,  the  other  broken  on  the  threshold 
of  a  happy  life,  clung  together,  talking  incessantly  of 
him  who  had  been  their  common  treasure.  Bell's 
couch,  placed  across  the  foot  of  Mrs.  Throckmorton's 
bed,  heard  many  a  midnight  lamentation,  relieving  in 


FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED.  231 

spite  of  her  the  mourner,  who  from  it  would  fall  into 
deep  sleep  to  arise  refreshed.  And  in  the  baby,  kick- 
ing and  cooing  away  his  waking  hours  between  them, 
they  never  wearied  in  discovering  the  traits  and  linea- 
ments of  his  sire. 

The  country  surrounding  their  new  place  of  refuge 
was  one  of  rolling  hills,  encircled  by  summits  of  melt- 
ing azure,  and  dominated  by  the  glorious  battlements 
of  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains,  known  as  the  Peaks  of 
Otter.  Here,  where  war's  destroying  finger  had  not 
yet  touched  to  mar  it,  the  landscape  breathed  of  rest 
and  peace.  Meadows  with  sheep  and  cattle,  hedge^ 
rows  rich  with  bloom,  brawling  rivers  and  gushing 
springs,  orchards  weighted  with  fruit — little  was  lack- 
ing to  this  rural  Paradise. 

But  to  Ursula  the  days  were  long  and  heavy.  To 
be  back  in  town,  her  ear  close  to  the  heart-beats  of 
the  war,  was  her  one  desire.  Her  recreation,  when  free 
from  duty  in  the  farm-house,  was  to  mount  an  old 
horse,  upon  an  older  side-saddle,  and  explore  alone 
the  wood-roads  and  blooming  lanes  about  the  neigh- 
borhood. News  from  the  front  came  to  them  grudg- 
ingly. They  wrested  it  piecemeal  from  the  slow 
speech  of  passing  stage-drivers.  They  read  it  in  news- 
papers arriving  long  after  date — and  they  held  their 
breath  between  each  arrival  of  a  post  bag.  Little 
more  than  a  month  since  the  Colonel  had  received 
his   wound,  the  flowers  scarce  withered  under  Dick's 


232  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

coffin-lid,  and    yet  the    crowding  of   great  events  into 
brief  space  made  the  weeks  seem  thrice  their  length ! 
*  -H-  ^  -x-  ^  -x-  * 

"Forward,  quick,  march !" 

It  had  come  at  last,  the  call  upon  their  reserve  on 
the  second  afternoon  of  the  Seven  Days  fight.  Miles 
felt  the  fierce  longing  that  had  been  tugging  at  his 
heart-strings  break  its  barriers  with  a  leap. 

Hot  work  had  fallen  to  his  share  since  the  signal 
gun  of  Mechanicsville  proclaimed  the  opening  of  the 
fray.  During  the  brief  battle  of  the  26th,  he  had  seen 
two  thousand  Confederates  swept  to  earth  like  leaves 
before  an  autumn  gale.  He  had  seen  a  brigade  of  his 
countrymen  push  forward  into  the  death-trap  at 
Beaver  Dam  Creek,  and  there,  beneath  the  murderous 
batteries  hid  in  the  wood  above,  fall,  piled  one  upon 
another  in  the  slender  stream  that  ran  red  with  their 
blood. 

All  night  he  heard  the  groans  and  cries  of  sufferers 
go  up  to  heaven,  and  saw  ambulances  filled  with  men 
in  every  stage  of  mutilation,  sent  back  from  this  cruel 
sacrifice.  And  although  they  had  driven  the  enemy 
and  won  for  the  army  the  passage  of  the  Chickahom- 
iny  River,  the  evening  fell  upon  a  struggle  just  begun. 

Not  till  the  next  day's  fight  was  well  along  had  his 
regiment  been  summoned.  It  was  never  in  Miles 
Throckmorton  to  be  patient  under  waiting.  Since 
sunrise,  when   the  Confederate  line   closing   over   its 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  233 

losses  had  drawn  up  stretching  for  miles  along  hill 
valley,  wood,  and  swamp  on  the  far  side  of  the  dis- 
puted stream  they  had  paid  such  a  price  to  cross,  he 
had  been  chafing  for  this  moment.  He  had  gone 
over  the  contingencies  of  his  probable  fall  in  battle, 
had  put  away  thoughts  of  home,  had  said  his  prayers 
as  a  brave  man  should,  and  felt  childishly  restless  at 
delay.  Among  that  hideous  pile  of  dead  left  in  the 
creek  were  college-mates  and  friends  of  his  childhood, 
serving  as  privates,  unhonored  and  unsung — gone  to  a 
cruel  death  for  the  sake  of  an  idea.  To  him  it  was  no 
longer  an  idea ;  he  had  felt  no  such  stir  within  him 
under  foreign  flags.  He  knew  it  was  every  man's  duty 
who  had  survived  the  scene  of  yesterday,  to  build 
up  for  those  dead  heroes  a  soldier's  monument,  by 
completing  what  they  had  begun. 

Since  midday  the  battle  had  waxed  every  hour  more 
fierce.  "Gaines's  Mill,"  "Cold  Harbor,"  and  "The 
Silent  Battle  of  the  Seven  Days'  Fight,"  they  vari- 
ously called  it,  afterwards — the  last  because,  through 
some  trick  of  the  atmosphere  against  acoustics,  the 
noise  of  continuous  firing  from  sixty  thousand  mus- 
kets and  one  hundred  pieces  of  artillery  was  unheard 
on  the  opposite  slopes  of  the  river,  scarcely  a  mile  way. 

That  it  was  fighting  to  be  proud  of,  was  long 'after- 
wards attested  by  the  spirited  description  of  the  Gen- 
eral commanding  the  right  flank  of  the  Union  army : 

"Dashing  down  the  intervening  plains,  floundering 


234  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

in  the  swamps,  and  struggling  against  the  tangled 
brushwood,  brigade  after  brigade  seemed  almost  to 
melt  away  before  the  concentrated  fire  of  our  artillery 
and  infantry ;  yet  others  pressed  on,  followed  by  sup- 
ports as  dashing  and  as  brave  as  their  predecessors, 
despite  their  heavy  losses  and  the  disheartening  effect 
of  having  to  clamber  over  many  of  their  disabled  and 
dead.""^ 

Upon  these  batteries  masked  in  summer  foliage  the 
Southern  troops  had  dashed  themselves  in  vain,  when 
to  Miles,  waiting  in  his  saddle,  the  order  came  to  carry 
his  regiment  where  the  rest  had  gone. 

At  the  moment  of  setting  out  a  rider  galloped  down 
out  of  the  battle  smoke  toward  him,  and  with  a  smile 
he  recognized  Chaplain  Crabtree  mounted  on  Ortho- 
doxy, his  face  begrimed,  a  light  in  his  gray  eyes  not 
suggesting  his  peaceful  calling. 

"Hallo,  Parson." 

"So  we're  off  at  last,  Colonel.  I'm  glad  I  caught 
you  first."  The  chaplain  did  not  see  fit  to  explain  that 
he  had  been  engaged  in  carrying  a  message  from  the 
Division  General  to  a  distant  point,  under  fire  from 
first  to  last.  His  present  business  was  to  get  from  his 
late  pupil  some  expression  of  affectionate  remembrance 
that,  in  an  event  to  be  distinctly  apprehended,  would 
be  a  solace  to  his  friends. 

*  Major-General  Fitz  John  Porter,  in  "Battles  and  Leaders  of  the 
Civil  War." 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  235 

"And  you're  after  me  to  shrive  me,  eh?  Well,  do  it 
quickly,  for  my  time  is  short." 

"My  dear  Miles — my  dear  boy,"  began  the  old  fel- 
low with  a  strange  break  in  his  voice.  "I  can  only 
say  God  bless  you,  and  pardon  all  your  sins." 

"Amen!"  said  Miles.  "I've  been  praying  on  my 
own  account  to-day.  You'll  remember  that,  sir,  if  I 
don't  come  out  of  this." 

"Aye,  that  will  I,  thank  the  Lord,"  said  Crabtree. 
"But,  Miles,  lad,  have  you  no  message  to  send  home?" 

"Ask  Ursula,"  the  young  man  answered  briefly. 
And  at  that  instant  the  word  to  march  was  given,  and 
the  splendid  regiment  broke  into  double  quick.  The 
Parson  kept  along  with  them.  He  could  not  divest 
himself  of  the  sense  of  responsibility  to  his  benefactor 
in  caring  for  this  youngster  who  had  grown  up  under 
his  eye.  And,  truth  to  tell,  the  old  gentleman  had  no 
fancy  for  the  wrong  side  of  the  show. 

From  the  slope  down  which  they  swept  in  gallant 
style,  he  watched  them,  in  the  teeth  of  a  raking  fire, 
cross  a  ditch  impeded  by  fallen  timber,  rise  out  of  it, 
and  ascend  the  crest  of  a  hill  opposite  fringed  with 
woods  belching  smoke  and  flame.  There  was  the  fatal 
palisade  beneath  which  so  many  souls  of  heroes  had 
that  day  gone  to  their  last  account.  There  were  the 
batteries,  which,  to  take,  meant  to  avenge  the  Con- 
federate losses,  and  to  break  the  Union  line ! 

In  a  rain  of  "lead  and  iron ;    closing  upon  every  gap 


236  FLOIVER  BE  HUNDRED. 

made  in  their  ranks  around  the  colors,  with  firm  re- 
solve; treading  underfoot  the  bodies  of  comrades  who 
but  a  short  half-hour  before  had  preceded  them,  gayly 
cheering;  silent,  unfaltering,  firing  not  a  gun  in  answer 
to  grape,  shell,  and  canister  that  cut  them  down  by 
platoons — the  men  in  gray  pressed  on.  Not  until 
hard  upon  the  enemy  did  the  shattered  remnant  of 
those  who  began  the  assault  rid  their  lungs  of  the 
famous  rebel  yell!  Then,  with  bayonets  fixed,  they 
charged  the  breastworks.  The  fury  of  their  onslaught 
was  resistless.  The  Federals,  driven  from  their  ambus- 
cade, rushed  up  the  hill,  carrying  with  them  their  sec- 
ond line  of  defense.  Then  began  a  blinding  fire  from 
the  pursuers,  which  paid  back  with  interest  the  debt 
of  blood  so  recently  acquired.  And  so,  on  and  on, 
pushing  a  foe  as  stubborn  as  themselves,  the  Confeder- 
ates rested  not  till  darkness  was  upon  them  and  the 
day  was  theirs. 

Before  this  came  to  pass,  one  of  the  leaders  of  that 
imperishable  charge  had  fallen  within  the  second  forti- 
fication, upon  a  field  strewn  with  bodies,  over  which 
horses  were  galloping,  riderless  and  maddened  by 
bayonet  thrusts  and  minie  balls.  With  the  shout  of 
victory  on  his  lips.  Colonel  Miles  Throckmorton  had 
been  struck  from  his  horse  by  a  saber  in  the  hands 
of  an  officer  of  Union  cavalry,  sent  unavailingly  to 
attempt  the  salvation  of  the  works.  Stunned  and 
bleeding  from  the  head.  Miles  fell  at  arm's  length  from 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  237 

the  man  whom,  in  their  duel  with  sabers,  he  had  also 
unhorsed  and  wounded.  As  his  eyes  rested  upon  the 
pallid  face  of  his  opponent,  he  uttered  an  exclamation 
of  distress. 

"Good  God!     It's  Cunningham!" 

By  one  of  those  strange  coincidences  so  often  recur- 
ring in  our  war,  this  was  indeed  the  young  Englishman 
who  had  saved  Miles's  life  in  the  battle  of  Melazzo.  A 
soldier  of  fortune,  he  had  enlisted  with  the  cause  that 
claimed  his  sympathy,  and  chance  had  brought  him 
into  personal  clash  with  the  one,  who,  in  their  com- 
radeship two  years  before,  had  been  to  him  as  a 
brother. 

"Cunningham,  old  fellow,  rouse  up — it's  I — Throck- 
morton— God  forgive  me  if  I've  killed  him." 

Dragging  himself  nearer.  Miles  found  that  his  friend 
had  fainted.  Fumbling  with  weak  fingers  in  the  breast 
of  his  uniform,  he  managed  to  get  at  a  flask  and  mois- 
ten Cunningham's  lips  with  brandy. 

But  for  dead  and  dying,  the  two  were  quite  alone, 
and  in  continual  peril  from  the  hoofs  of  frightened 
horses.  As  Cunningham  revived.  Miles  became  aware 
of  keen  pain  and  a  weakness  never  felt  before.  Was 
it  death?  Perhaps.  Well,  he  had  challenged  and 
must  meet  it  like  a  man.  He  fell  back,  and  as  through 
a  mist  saw  what  he  took  to  be  Dick's  face,  then  his 
grandfather's — "dear  old  man,  he'll  know  me  now  as 
his   own."     Then  these  faded,  and   Ursula's  alone  re- 


238  FLOIVER  DE  HUNDRED. 

mained — "true  Ursula,  his  mate — no  child,  but  a 
woman  to  inspire  and  to  be  loved."  How  had  this 
knowledge  never  come  to  him  before? 

Miles  heard  the  gallop  of  an  approaching  horse. 
With  the  instinctive  dread  of  mutilation  he  threw  his 
arms  up  with  a  cry. 

"Miles!" 

Surely  he  knew  that  voice.  He  was  in  the  school- 
room at  Flower  de  Hundred,  behindhand  with  a 
task. 

"Coming,  sir,  presently,"  his  dazed  voice  answered 
feebly. 

"Thank  God!"  cried  the  Chaplain,  dismounting  at 
his  side.     "Are  you  much  hurt,  boy?" 

"It's  my  head.     I  can't  tell." 

Kneeling  upon  the  stained  moss,  the  Parson  dis- 
pensed the  rude  surgery  at  his  command.  His  chief 
care  was  to  carry  Miles  off  the  Hill  Difficulty,  up 
which,  for  this  end,  he  had  spurred  amid  whistling 
balls,  back  where  no  turn  of  the  tide  could  trouble 
them. 

"Oh  J  it's  no  use — you'd  better  give  me  up.  Do 
something,  if  you  love  me,  for  Cunningham — don't 
you  know  Cunningham  that  saved  my  life  in  Sicily? — 
Queer,  isn't  it,  he  and  I  should  meet  in  a  mess  like 
this;  tell  him  I  don't  bear  him  any  grudge — Ah! 
that's  right — he's  rousing — I  didn't  hurt  him  much. 
Hallo!     What's  that? — troops? — our  troops — are  they 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  239 

coming  back — oh!  not  driven  back?  Go  Parson,  leave 
us,  don't  stop — Go,  I  tell  you,  you'll  only  come  to 
grief — please, //^^^^  go." 

"I'll  be  switched  if  I  do,  sir!"  roared  the  Parson  in 
a  rage. 

Miles  lost  count  of  time  from  this  point.  When  he 
recovered  it  he  was  under  a  fly-tent  in  an  apple 
orchard  in  the  Confederate  rear,  the  Parson  and  some 
badly  frightened  robins  to  keep  him  company.  His 
first  coherent  inquiry,  for  the  welfare  of  Captain  Cun- 
ningham, met  with  satisfactory  response. 

What  they  had  mistaken  for  a  column  of  Federal 
troops  had  been  prisoners  marching  to  the  Confeder- 
ate rear,  and  to  these  Cunningham,  while  trying  to 
help  the  Chaplain  to  get  Miles  upon  Orthodoxy's 
back,  was  added  by  the  officers  in  charge.  His  wound 
proving  trifling,  he  was,  at  the  instance  of  Colonel 
Throckmorton,  soon  named  on  an  early  list  for  ex- 
change of  prisoners  of  war,  and  ten  days  later  went  to 
the  North,  via  Aiken's  Landing,  while  Miles,  less  for- 
tunate, was  tossing  in  delirium  at  a  private  house  in 
Richmond. 

On  the  day  following  the  battle,  before  the  Chaplain 
could  prevent  it,  the  rumor  of  Miles's  death  in  action 
had  spread  everywhere.  The  army  and  the  Rich- 
mond newspapers  united  in  extolling  his  brilliant 
behavior  on  the  field,  and  in  deploring  a  loss  irrep- 
arable to  the  South. 


240  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

Sunday  intervening,  Mr.  Crabtree's  message  by  tele- 
graph to  the  Colonel  was  not  received  at  the  nearest 
railway  station  until  Monday  morning,  and  was  there 
held  over  to  be  forwarded  by  the  hand  of  a  stage- 
driver,  leaving  that  afternoon  for  the  interior.  In  the 
mean  time,  Ursula,  who  had  risen  early  to  ride  five 
miles  to  the  cross-roads  post-office  whence  their  mail 
matter  was  distributed,  secured  a  newspaper  contain- 
ing a  report  of  the  engagements  of  Mechanicsville  and 
Gaines's  Mills;  and,  opening  it  when  again  in  the  sad- 
dle and  on  her  way  back  to  the  farm-house,  the  first 
name  that  attracted  her  eye  among  the  killed  was  that 
of  Miles  Throckmorton. 

It  had  always  been  Ursula's  way  to  bleed  and  make 
no  moan.  She  was  not  conscious  under  this  blinding 
blow  of  so  much  as  a  start  or  a  shiver.  It  was  hardly 
unexpected,  what  she  had  just  read.  For  days,  she 
had  taken  the  dread  of  it  to  bed  with  her,  waked  with 
it,  eaten,  and  gone  abroad  with  it.  When  alone  in  a 
shady  lane,  she  looked  again  at  the  printed  list,  trying 
to  believe  she  had  been  under  a  delusion.  There  were 
the  letters  of  his  name  flaming  up  to  sear  her  brain ! 
Poor  child !  Few  were  the  people  from  whom,  in 
troubles  small  or  great,  she  did  not  resent  condolence. 
Now,  her  one  idea  was  to  hide  herself — if  she  could 
have  followed  out  her  first  agonized  impulse  it  would 
have  been  to  fly  anywhere  rather  than  return  home 
with   this  news.     And  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  she 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  241 

thought  of  herself  without  reference  to  those  she 
loved. 

Reaching  the  farm-house,  she  gave  the  newspaper 
into  the  hands  of  Cousin  Polly  who  came  to  meet  her, 
and  pushing  brusquely  by  went  into  her  own  room 
and  locked  the  door.  What  to  do  there?  To  pace 
the  floor  like  a  tigress  robbed,  and  to  cast  herself 
across  the  bed  with  a  bursting  heart  and  eyes  still  dry 
of  tears.  Then,  in  a  flash,  came  the  thought  of  Miles's 
legacy.  Here  was  a  piece  of  him,  intrusted  to  her 
sole  keeping — a  link  between  them  made  by  him. 
With  hot  hands  she  broke  the  seal,  and  examined  the 
contents  of  the  packet. 

The  tears  flowed  as  she  ended  the  reading  of  the 
letters — Philip  Throckmorton's  to  his  father,  inclosed 
in  a  manly  and  touching  statement  from  Miles  of  his 
own  discovery  and  voluntary  self-sacrifice ;  within,  was 
the  miniature  none  could  mistake  to  be  other  than  it 
was. 

Ursula  started  up,  every  consideration  of  prudence 
or  delay  swept  away  in  the  whirlwind  of  her  burning 
championship.  Gathering  the  precious  relics  in  her 
hand,  she  flew  down  the  stairs  and  into  the  Coloners 
room.  All  of  the  others  were  there,  gathered  in  a  sor- 
rowing group  around  the  old  man  lying  on  his  couch. 
Ursula  was  conscious  that  she  made  but  a  savage 
entry  among  these  patient  Christian  folk,  bending  their 
hearts  to  accept  the  Lord's  decree.     She  tried  to  curb 


242  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

herself,  to  lower  her  voice  to  the  pitch  of  gentle  com- 
miseration, and  failed.  The  one  image  of  Miles  dying 
on  the  battle-field,  with  none  to  tell  him  that  the  great 
things  he  had  done  in  his  short  life  were  recognized 
and  honored,  enchained  her  imagination,  melted  and 
stirred  her  with  its  overwhelming  pathos.  Of  him, 
him  only,  could  she  think.  When  she  tried  to  speak, 
her  voice  came  in  hysterical  gasps.  Then,  gathering 
herself  in  a  passionate  effort,  she  laid  the  miniature 
and  letters  upon  the  Colonel's  knee. 

"Look!    read!"    she  cried.     "And  oh,  you  will  see 
what  you  have  lost !" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Disabled  for  active  service,  although  fairly  restored 
to  health,  Colonel  Richard  Throckmorton  might  have 
felt  tempted  to  turn  his  sword  into  a  pruning-hook, 
and  take  up  the  care  of  his  deserted  home,  but  for  the 
exposed  situation  of  the  estate.  More  than  one 
stolen  glimpse  he  had  had  at  Flower  de  Hundred, 
stopping  over  night  and  keeping  a  horse  saddled  in  the 
stable  to  escape  at  the  first  warning  of  hostile  visitors 
by  land  or  water.  Known  as  the  property  of  a  rebel 
officer  of  rank,  the  place  was  until  the  end  of  the 
war  continually  subject  to  raids  from  the  enemy,  and 
piece  by  piece  its  glories  fell  away,  until  a  day  came 
more  memorable  in  disaster  than  any  that  had  pre- 
ceded it.  One  January  night  in  1864,  the  Colonel, 
withdrawing  the  curtain  of  his  window  as  he  had  been 
always  wont  to  do  for  a  last  glance  at  lawn  and  river, 
before  retiring,  thought  he  had  never  seen  them  love- 
lier. In  the  clear  light  of  a  wintry  moon,  so  bright 
that  he  might  almost  have  read  print  under  it,  the 
magnolias  glistened  with  a  silver  sheen,  the  turf  was 
washed  in  silver,  and  the  water  glimmered  unbroken 
by  a  sail.  No  sign  was  there,  in  this  unearthly  radi- 
ance,  of  the   ravages  that  war  had  left    and  daytime 

243 


244  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

would  reveal.  Soothed  by  the  peaceful  spectacle,  a 
fresh  hope  that  the  dear  ones  still  left  to  him  might 
once  again  be  united  in  happiness  within  these  walls 
came  into  his  perennially  young  heart.  He  went  to 
bed  under  blankets  taken  by  Judy's  fingers  from 
Judy's  "chist,"  and  fell  into  an  old  man's  troubled 
sleep,  to  be  aroused  at  daybreak  by  a  negro  creeping 
barefoot  to  his  side. 

"Wake  up,  Marse  Richard,"  the  man  said,  shaking 
with  fear.  "De  ribber's  jess  chock-full  o'  Yankee  boats, 
an'  yo'  boss  is  at  de  back  do'." 

But  before  the  Colonel  had  time  to  do  more  than 
spring  out  of  bed  and  lay  hold  upon  his  clothes,  the 
room  was  filled  with  blue-coated  soldiers,  and  he  found 
himself  a  prisoner  of  war. 

Half-clad  and  shivering,  with  head  uncovered,  his 
gray  locks  streaming  in  the  keen  breeze  from  the  water, 
they  hurried  him  across  the  frozen  lawn  to  a  gunboat 
at  the  wharf,  and  into  the  presence  of  the  ofificer  in 
command. 

From  the  cuddy  to  which,  under  guard,  he  was  con- 
signed, Richard  Throckmorton  watched  all  day  long 
the  sack  of  his  ancient  homestead.  Under  suspicion 
as  a  depot  of  Confederate  supplies,  the  outbuildings 
were  recklessly  put  to  the  torch,  and  a  ring  of  smoke 
and  flame  from  burning  stables,  barns,  school-house, 
bowling-alley,  kitchens,  and  dairy,  the  whole,  in  fact,  of 
the  little  village   tributary  to   a  great  Virginia  dwell- 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED,  245 

ing,  encircled  and  swept  perilously  near  the  mansion. 
Soldiers  mad  with  excitement  overran  the  rooms  and, 
dragging  whatever  they  could  lay  hands  on  out  upon 
the  lawn,  made  merry  with  their  spoil.  Furniture, 
pictures,  mirrors,  carpets,  books,  saddles,  fire-irons 
strewed  the  grass ;  and  when  to  these  were  added  the 
unfortunate  discovery  of  a  cask  of  buried  whisky,  an 
orgy  followed  in  which  all  semblance  of  restraint  was 
thrown  aside.  The  pet  donkey,  coming  upon  the 
scene  bestridden  by  a  huge  fellow  attired  in  a  Colonial 
poke-bonnet  and  flourishing  a  lady's  parasol,  threw  his 
rider  over  head,  and  was  at  once  seized  and  given  a 
treble  burden  beneath  whose  weight  he  sank  to  earth. 
Judy,  appearing  to  make  heroic  protest,  was  driven 
back  to  her  cabin  with  jeering  threats,  and  the  other 
negroes  faithful  to  their  master,  who  had  remained 
upon  the  place,  were  glad  to  cower  out  of  sight,  if  not 
to  curry  favor  by  providing  food  to  the  revelers. 

And  so  the  day  wore  on  till  evening  closed  the 
saturnalia,  while  Colonel  Throckmorton,  maimed,  de- 
spoiled, and  helpless,  saw  w^ith  a  heart  swelling  with 
gratitude  that  the  surrounding  fire  had  burnt  out, 
leaving  the  empty  shell  of  his  dwelling  still  standing. 
At  night,  the  boat  steamed  back  to  Fortress  Mun- 
roe,  where,  without  interrogatory  and  in  company 
with  two  marauding  negroes  of  the  fleet,  the  Colonel 
was  consigned  to  a  dungeon  to  await  the  pleasure  of 
his  captors. 


246  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

This  episode  was  happily  brief.  The  prisoner, 
shortly  thereafter  exchanged,  returned  to  Richmond, 
confronting  the  situation  with  quiet  dignity.  He 
bore  this  blow  of  fate  as  he  had  borne  the  others. 
Without  a  word  of  violence  for  his  enemies,  he 
patiently  resumed  the  frayed  and  broken  threads 
of  everyday  existence. 

'T  sometimes  think,  Richard,"  quoth  Cousin  Polly, 
taking  the  sole  of  an  old  shoe  out  of  soak  before  refit- 
ting it  to  the  cloth  upper,  ingeniously  contrived  from 
the  tails  of  a  moth-eaten  coat  discarded  by  the  Colo- 
nel, "that  I  was  thrown  away  among  people  of  my 
own  estate  in  life.  Look  at  this  gaiter  I've  already 
made.  As  a  shoemaker  I  could  have  coined  gold  for 
us  in  these  blockaded  days." 

"If  it  is  not  in  current  specie  you  coin  it  all  the 
same,  my  dear  Polly,"  said  the  Colonel,  laying  down 
his  saffron-tinted  "Examiner."  "But  where,  pray,  is 
my  Ursula?" 

"She  went  off  after  office  hours  for  a  walk  some- 
where," vaguely  answered  Miss  Polly,  who  had  her 
own  reason  for  keeping  dark  on  the  subject.  "No 
doubt  she  will  be  in  soon." 

"Ah,  well !  As  our  circle  narrows  ,1  grow  more  rest- 
less when  one  is  out  of  sight." 

"We  are  like  those  regiments  that  started  out  into 
the  war  with  the  full  complement  of  men,  and  with 
colors  flying,"  Miss  Polly  said,  "and  have  come  down 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  247 

to  a  ragged  remnant.  There  is  one,  though,  that  I 
cannot  wish  were  back." 

"No,  poor  little  mother!  She  was  too  fine  and  frail 
for  a  life  of  ups  and  downs.  As  Miles  truly  says,  she 
was  a  flower  that  would  not  bear  transplanting." 

"She  is  blooming  in  the  garden  of  the  Lord,  "  added 
Miss  Polly,  a  tear  dropping  upon  her  homely  work. 
"And  if  ever  man  died  of  a  broken  heart  it  was  Saul 
when  his  'Ole-  Miss'  was  taken.  He  was  like  a  dog 
that  strayed  out  to  die  upon  his  master's  grave.  But, 
bless  me!  Here  I  am  forgetting  that  it's  supper  time, 
though  precious  little  I've  got  for  you  and  Ursula,  I'm 
free  to  say." 

Jumping  up,  she  went  bustling  about  her  simple 
preparations.  Their  meal  at  midday,  dinner,  so-called, 
having  consisted  of  rashers  of  fat  bacon  and  hot  "corn- 
pone,"  the  supper  was  destined  to  set  forth  hard-tack 
soaked  in  boiling  water,  and  coffee  made  of  parched 
beans  and  served  without  milk  or  sugar.  Yes,  the 
Confederate  wolf  was  at  the  door.  It  was  now  late  in 
the  year  which  to  the  Colonel  had  been  heralded  in 
by  the  sacking  and  destruction  of  his  home ;  and  the 
little  family  were  glad  to  find  refuge  in  a  crowded 
lodging-house  in  town.  Their  actual  possessions  in 
the  matter  of  accommodation  were  scant — a  sitting- 
room  in  the  basement,  where  a  lounge  sufficed  for  the 
Colonel  to  sleep  upon,  and  a  closet  near  by  held  his 
equipage  of  the  toilet — while,  up  under  the  eaves,  Miss 


248  FLOWER  DE  HUAWRED. 

Polly  and  Ursula  perched  in  a  pigeon-box  where  only 
one  inmate  could  move  about  at  a  time. 

Every  floor  of  the  domicile  that  sheltered  the  family 
from  Flower  de  Hundred  was  inhabited  by  refugees 
and  Department  clerks — driven  to  various  expedients 
to  secure  food  and  the  ordinary  comforts  of  exis- 
tence. Around  Ursula  and  Polly  congregated  chiefly 
young  women  employed  in  the  different  bureaux  of 
Government,  and  the  walls  echoed  with  merry  twitter- 
ings over  the  make-shifts  of  their  lot.  In  the  story 
below,  an  infirm  man  and  his  wife,  two  children,  and 
a  paralytic  mother  whose  bed  was  concealed  behind  a 
screen  fashioned  from  quilts  and  clothes-pins,  occupied 
a  room  in  common.  During  an  illness  of  the  bread- 
winner of  this  little  family  of  gentlefolks,  they  were 
supported  by  the  self-sacrificing  efforts  of  two  friends, 
girls  employed  in  the  Confederate  treasury,  who 
pledged  the  recipients  of  their  bounty  to  tell  no  one 
whence  it  came. 

Thanks  to  an  old  friend  of  Colonel  Throckmorton, 
a  householder  in  the  town,  the  rooms  he  had  be^n 
glad  to  secure  with  scantiest  furniture  wore  an  air 
of  comfort  then  uncommon,  and  even  of  what  was 
almost  elegance  as  compared  with  the  surroundings  of 
others.  Chairs,  tables,  books,  and  a  student's  lamp, 
were  lent  until  the  owner  should  need  them.  Every- 
body was  borrowing  household  necessaries.  The 
family  of  a  member  of  the  Cabinet,  unable  to  secure 


■  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  H9 

by  purchase  a  dining-table,  and  having  had  the  use  of 
one  from  an  acquaintance,  was  called  on  to  surrender 
it  at  a  moment  when  spread  for  the  rare  occasion  of  a 
dinner  to  invited  guests.  A  lady  had  borrowed  salt- 
cellars, but  returned  them  on  demand  to  the  owner 
who  was  driven  to  sell  them  to  buy  bread,  and  sup- 
plied their  place  with  "cocked-hats,",  made  of  old  invi- 
tations to  a  ball,  issued  when  paper  was  still  white. 
Blankets,  given  up  in  an  emergency,  were  replaced  by 
sheets  lined  with  newspapers. 

But  the  Colonel's  furniture  was  not  of  this  migra- 
tory class.  All  he  would  take  was  for  his  use,  "till 
you  choose  to  get  rid  of  it,"  said  the  friend  who  fur- 
nished it.  And,  by  adding  here  and  there  some  pretty 
touch,  pots  of  plants  on  the  window  sill  to  conceal  a 
dreary  outlook,  curtains,  cushions,  table  covers,  those 
magicians  Polly  and  Ursula  bestowed  on  their  tiny 
kingdom  the  pleasant  air  of  home. 

Seasons  had  passed  since  the  Battle  Summer  set  its 
indelible  imprint  upon  their  family.  Many  another 
conflict  had  left  its  heart-aches  to  the  land.  Every 
step  forward  of  the  invading  army  had  been  contested 
till  their  tracks  were  dyed  in  blood,  the  bones  of  com- 
batants were  bleaching  upon  a  thousand  fields,  and  the 
war  was  drawing  to  its  inevitable  close.  In  Virginia, 
of  the  troops  that  upon  the  first  call  to  arms  had  been 
rallied  from  the  fine  flower  of  Southern  society,  there 
remained   the  gaunt,  ragged,  and   barefooted   veterans 


250  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

with  whom  Lee  stood  between  the  enemy  and  Rich- 
mond— and  starvation  stared  them  in  the  face. 

At  the  hospitals,  the  cry  was  no  longer  for  delicacies 
but  for  sustenance.  The  coarsest  bread  was  now  sold 
sparingly ;  tea,  coffee,  and  sugar  were  almost  unattain- 
able; milk  and  eggs  were,  like  brandy,  dispensed  only 
in  the  extremity  of  need. 

In  the  army,  rations  had  been  cut  down  to  meager 
bits  of  bacon,  handfuls  of  meal,  dried  peas  or  parched 
corn,  and  at  times  either  of  these  was  lacking  until 
some  happy  chance  should  supply  the  commissariat 
anew.  Whilst  the  summer  lasted,  all  that  was  edible 
in  vegetation  was  stripped  to  supply  the  cravings  of 
the  troops.  As  the  winter  closed  in,  ofBcers  and  men 
alike  dreamed  dreams  of  abundance,  to  awake  with 
pangs  of  hunger.  To  these  facts,  familiar  to  those 
who  surrencfered  to  Grant  at  Appomattox,  may  be  ap- 
pended a  pregnant  paragraph  from  the  original  letter 
written  by  General  Lee  to  the  Secretary  of  War  at 
Richmond,  dated,  "Hd  Quarters  C.  S.  Armies,  9th 
March,  1865,"  and  lying  now  before  me  as  I  write: 

"Unless  the  men  and  animals  can  be  subsisted,  the 
army  cannot  be  kept  together,  and  our  present  lines 
must  be  abandoned.  Nor  can  it  be  moved  to  any 
other  position  where  it  can  operate  to  advantage  with- 
out provisions  to  enable  it  to  move  in  a  body.  The 
difficulties  attending  the  payment  and  clothing  of  the 
troops,  though  great,  are  not  so  pressing,  and  would 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  251 

be  relieved  in  a  measure  by  military  success.  The 
same  is  true  of  the  ordnance  supplies.  And  I  there- 
fore confine  my  remarks  chiefly  to  those  wants  which 
must  be  met  now,  in  order  to  maintain  a  force  ade- 
quate to  justify  a  reasonable  hope  of  such  success." 

Shut  up  in  Richmond,  the  goal  of  Northern  hopes, 
more  than  one  hundred  thousand  inhabitants,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  thirty  thousand  the  town  had  been  built  to 
contain,  shared  with  the  army  the  hardships  of  the 
time.  The  supplies  to  be  had  were  controlled  by 
speculators  who  disposed  of  them  at  enormous  priv.es, 
even  when  stated  in  Confederate  currency.  The 
markets,  during  that  winter,  were  but  a  beggarly 
array  of  empty  benches.  From  the  ravaged  and 
exhausted  country  within  practicable  reach,  little 
could  be  got  or  expected,  and  the  same  difficulties 
of  transportation  that  in  a  few  months  were  to  make 
it  impossible  to  subsist  the  army,  prevented  drafts 
upon  remoter  regions.  The  stress  thus  felt  was  al- 
most universal.  It  was  only  those  who  had  anything 
to  sell  who  could  put  money  in  their  purse,  and  they 
were  few  and  marked.  Men  like  Richard  Throckmor- 
ton, who,  in  their  early  buoyancy  of  faith  in  the  result 
of  the  war,  had  invested  their  available  means  in  Con- 
federate Bonds,  as  a  loan  to  the  government,  found 
themselves  in  actual  need  of  money.  The  inflation  of 
the  currency,  until  more  than  fifty  dollars,  that  winter, 
were   required   to  represent  the   value   of   one  to-day, 


252  FLOWER  DE  HUXDRED. 

lent  a  ghastly  joviality  to  the  affairs  of  traffic.  People 
told  their  expenses,  laughed  at  the  prices  asked,  jested 
over  their  full  purses  and  the  minute  equivalents  in 
necessaries,  detailed  their  straits  and  contrivances,  and, 
throughout,  never  lost  confidence  that  the  South  would 
succeed  and  that  good  times  would  come  again ! 

After  all,  poverty  and  hunger  weigh  far  more  lightly 
when  shared  by  a  community  bent  on  putting  the 
bright  face  upon  affairs,  than  when  compared  with 
well-fed  solvency  crowding  to  a  banquet  the  poor  and 
famished  may  not  taste.  And  there  was  something 
original,  almost  piquant,  in  those  meetings  together  of 
men  and  women,  who  had  been  affluent,  at  banquets 
served  upon  silver,  porcelain,  and  cut  glass,  where  the 
food  offered  was  meager  and  only  such  as  could  be 
found  in  the  humblest  cabin  of  the  negro  prior  to  the 
war!  Under  such  conditions,  society  quickly  rids  it- 
self of  the  desire  for  display,  the  pretenses,  the  petty 
ambitions  which  go  to  the  bottom  in  such  a  ferment  of 
humanity. 

While  Miss  Polly  was  in  the  act  of  immersing  her 
hard  tack  under  the  spout  of  a  persistently  cheerful 
kettle,  Ursula  came  in  from  the  early  dusk  of  the  win- 
ter's afternoon,  her  eyes  sparkling,  a  bright  tinge  upon 
her  cheek. 

"Oh,  am  I  too  late  to  lay  the  cloth?"  she  cried. 
"You  know,  Cousin  Polly,  it's  the  only  indulgence  pos- 
sible to  my  aesthetic  sense,  at  meal  time,  to  make  the 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  253 

table  look  pretty.  Blessed  be  you  for  remembering  to 
bring  away  from  home  a  good  supply  of  damask  and 
small  silverware !  And  I  never  take  one  of  Mr.  Bar- 
clay's Devonport  dishes  off  the  cupboard  shelf,  that  I 
don't  want  to  kiss  the  nice  old  thing  for  lending  them 
to  us." 

"Don't  waste  your  kisses  upon  Barclay,'^  said  the 
Colonel,  to  whom  the  strong  young  creature  brought 
new  life  with  the  outer  air  that  lingered  in  her  gar- 
ments. 

Ursula  laughed,  and  stooping  over  his  chair  be- 
stowed on  his  forehead  a  fervent  caress.  •  He  had  been 
trying  to  read,  but  was  sadly  interrupted  by  a  crack  in 
one  of  his  eyeglasses,  which  he  now^  took  off  and  laid 
aside  with  a  sigh  over  their  incompetency. 

"Oh,  I  can't  wait!"  cried  the  girl.  "I  never  could 
wait.  I'm  just  bursting  with  anxiety  to  see  if  these 
will  suit  your  eyes." 

And  kneeling  down  by  him,  she  fitted  upon  his  nose 
a  brand-new  pair  of  gold-bowed  spectacles. 

"Ursula!"  exclaimed  the  Colonel. 

"Scold  as  you  may.  Cousin  Richard,  they're  bought 
and  paid  for,  honestly — not  out  of  the  house-money, 
or  the  hospital  fund,  as  Cousin  PoUy'll  bear  me  wit- 
ness." 

"Yes,  Richard,  they  are  Ursula's  own  present,  and  if 
they  give  you  half  the  pleasure  they've  given  her  to 
plot  for  them,  she'll  be  amply  satisfied." 


254  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

"They  suit  me  to  a  T,"  said  the  Colonel,  beaming 
with  satisfaction.  "And  now  I  can  read  without  both- 
ering my  arm  perpetually  to  take  off  or  put  on  the 
others.  But  I'm  completely  mystified.  How  did  my 
Ursula  become  a  capitalist?  Many  a  time  I've  walked 
past  the  shop  wishing  I  could  afford  this  luxury. 
Last  wee!c,  only,  Dawson  told  me  he  was  asking  five 
hundred  dollars  a  pair  for  such  as  these,  for  I  was 
weak  enough  to  go  in  one  day  and  try  them  on." 

"Of  course  you  were,  and  of  course  I  tracked  you, 
you  dear  old  ostrich,"  exclaimed  the  girl  gleefully. 
"Why  you  haven't  seen  that  for  two  months  past 
Cousin  Polly  and  I  have  thought  of  nothing  else — !" 

"But  that  doesn't  answer  my  question?  Where  did 
you  get  five  hundred  dollars  to  throw  away  on  me?" 

"In  the  first  place  I  indited  a  poem — a  noble 
effort — for  which  an  editor  gave  me  seventy-five. 
That  check  demoralized  me.  I  felt  equal  to  any  ex- 
travagance. Then  I  wrote  a  story,  then  more  verses — 
and  after  that — the  deluge — and  no  more  questions 
answered !" 

Not  until  long  afterwards  did  the  Colonel  find  t^iat, 
to  amass  the  sum  desired,  she  had  done  extra  work  at 
the  Bureau,  and,  still  lacking  a  small  amount,  had  that 
day  recklessly  carried  her  one  muff  and  boa  to  the 
Ladies'  Exchange  and  disposed  of  them  for  the  balance 
required.  To  Ursula,  the  knowledge  that  he  had  been 
wistfully  wanting   and  steadily  denying   himself   this 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  255 

necessary,  was  fraught  with  such  pathos  that  to 
bestow  it  on  him  filled  her  with  bubbling  pleasure. 
Coming  home  with  her  prize,  she  had  danced  through 
the  streets ! 

And  as  blessings,  like  misfortunes,  are  apt  to  come 
in  pairs,  when  they  were  gathering  around  the  table  to 
their  frugal  meal,  a  tap  at  the  door  disclosed  one  of 
the  bevy  of  Department  girls  who  occupied  the  rooms 
on  the  third  floor. 

"Oh,  please.  Miss  Throckmorton !"  she  said  excit- 
edly, "I  have  had  a  box  from  the  country,  and  we  are 
laying  out  siicJi  a  spread !  And  if  you'll  not  refuse  to 
take  three  sausages  and  a  glass  of  apple  jelly,  it  would 
be  doing  me  a  favor — you've  been  so  kind  to  us,  you 
know,  and  there's  so  little  I  can  do." 

Pressing  her  gifts  into  Ursula's  hands  where  she 
stood  at  the  open  door,  the  girl,  flushed  with  pleasure, 
ran  away. 

"The  ravens  provide !"  exclaimed  Miss  Polly,  "not 
to  say  that  our  poor,  dear,  generous  Betty  Millson  is 
that  kind  of  a  bird — I  wont  stop,  Richard,  to  send 
these  sausages  out  to  the  cook.  If  you  don't  mind, 
I'll  just  toast  them  here." 

Betsey,  the  negro  woman  who  did  cleaning  and 
"serious"  cooking  for  the  lodgers,  inhabited  the 
kitchen  in  the  yard ;  but,  save  for  bread-making,  her 
culinary  service  had,  of  late,  been  light.  Miss  Polly, 
secretly  afraid  that  even  a  short  margin  of  time  would 


256  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

suffice  for  the  Colonel  to  advance  his  usual  proposi- 
tion to  reserve  this  superfluous  dainty  for  the  hospi- 
tals, made  all  haste  to  pop  her  sausages  upon  the^ 
toasting-fork ! 

In  the  act  of  lifting  his  first  welcome  mouthful  to 
his  lips,  the  good  man  paused.  He  did  not  speak, 
but  they  saw  him  wince.  He  was  thinking  of  a 
passage  in  the  last  letter  Miles  had  written  from 
the  front : 

**To-day  one  of  my  staff  officers  took  teamsters  and 
mules  and  scoured  the  country,  coming  back  with  some 
loads  of  unshucked  corn.  The  men  fell  upon  it  like 
wild  animals.  In-  a  driving  snow-storm  they  shelled 
the  corn  with  numb  fingers  and  giving  the  husks  to 
the  horses  parched  the  hard  grains  and  ate  them  rav- 
enously. Our  own  mess  was  supplied  with  a  pot  of 
cow-pea  soup  and  a  morsel  of  corn  bread  for  each 
officer.  We  slept  last  night  under  frozen  blankets, 
most  of  us,  upon  the  ground.  And  yet  my  fellows, 
when  they  can  manage  to  only  half-fill  their  stomachs, 
are  as  fit  as  fiddles  and  ready  to  keep  it  up  till  Dooms- 
day. If — if — what  can  an  if  accomplish — but  oh,  if  I 
could  only  shoe  them  properly,  and  give  them  one 
square  meal  a  day!" 

After  supper,  when  the  Colonel,  according  to  his 
wont  on  fine  nights,  had  strolled  around  to  one  of  the 
houses  where  he  was  an  honored  guest,  sometimes  to 
indulge  in  a  rubber  of  whist  and  more  often  to  talk 
over  the  increasing  gravity  of  the   military  situation, 


FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED.  257 

the  ladies  tidied    their  room,   and    sat  down   to  their 
work. 

"And  now,  my  dear  child,"  said  the  brisk  disposer 
of  family  affairs,  "I  should  be  really  glad  for  you  to 
put  aside  your  mourning  and  go  to  this  party  at  the 
Annandale's." 

"It's  all  very  well,  Cousin  P,"  said  Ursula  resign- 
edly. "I  don't  deny  that  I'd  like  a  peep  at .  some  of 
the  fun.  But  I'm  laboring  under  the  same  embarrass- 
ment that  i\Ir.  Swiveller  felt  when  he  w^as  debarred 
from  going  into  the  street  by  the  sale  of  all  his 
clothes — 'even  an  umbrella  would  be  something.'  " 

"I  know  very  well,  you  darling,  that  the  proceeds  of 
your  wardrobe  in  colors  bought  mourning  for  us  both. 
How  I  wish,  now,  I  had  made  you  keep  that  sweet 
sprigged  muslin !" 

"Never  mind  the  sprigged  muslin,"  began  Ursula, 
but  was  interrupted. 

Mrs.  Tabby  Hazleton,  carrying  a  bundle  under  her 
arm,  came  panting  in. 

"Howdye,  girls— I'm  in  luck  to  find  you  both— but 
then,  somehow,  it  seems  to  me,  I  always  am  in  luck. 
Tom's  having  to  g\Y<t  up  the  service  through  that 
fever  he  got  in  the  Chickahominy— though  it  left  him 
the  color  of  a  pumpkin  and  a  little  hard  to  manage — 
still,  he's  at  home  safe;  and  if  I  give  him  enough 
newspapers— you  know  how  odd  he  always  was  about 
Vashti — well,    when    she    made    her   mind    up    to  o-q 


258  FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED, 

North  and  be  a  freedwoman  I  thought  Tom  would 
never  get  along — if  you'll  believe  me,  he  says,  now, 
he'd  as  lief  the  war  would  hold  on  twenty  years,  if 
'twould  keep  Vashti  at  the  North — oh,  my  dear,  he 
don't  mean  it,  though — the  sights  we  see — even 
among  the  lodgers — who'd  have  ever  thought  I'd 
come  to  taking  rent  for  rooms  of  mine — those  poor 
exiled  homesick  things,  huddled  together,  starving 
almost — the  only  thing  I  minded  about  having  them, 
is  that  it  isn't  you  all — but  I  seemed  to  have  got  them 
settled  down  on  me,  from  the  first,  and  you  can't  ask 
people  to  go  out,  even  if  it  is  your  dearest  friends  you 
want  in  place  of  them — couldn't  spare  a  servant  this 
evenin',  and  so  brought  this  around  myself.  First,  a 
mutton-bone  for  Betsey  to  make  some  broth  to-mor- 
row for  the  Colonel — my  dear,  I'd  hoped  to  bring 
some  meat  but  my  boarders  have  such  appetites  and 
this  is  the  first  mutton  we've  had,  in  I  don't  know 
when — there's  enough  to  make  a  right  good  mess  of 
broth — and  here's  a  half  a  pound  of  rice — " 

"Tabby  Hazleton !"  said  Miss  Polly  severely. 

"What  are  you  talkin'  'bout,  Polly  Lightfoot? 
What's  a  mutton  bone?" 

"Didn't  you  solemnly  promise  you'd  not  take  an- 
other morsel  off  your  table  to  put  on  ours?" 

"Polly,  I  declare  to  gracious  we  got  up  from  din- 
ner feeling  as  if  we'd  eaten  too  much — please,  please, 
don't    prevent    me — why,  when  Tom    and    I    sit   and 


FLOWER   BE   HUXDRED.  259 

talk  about  the  Colonel  till  our  hearts  are  like  to 
burst — !" 

The  faithful  soul  fell  to  crying,  and  the  unaccus- 
tomed sight  of  tears  coursing  upon  her  ruddy  cheeks 
was  too  much  for  Miss  Polly  to  resist.  Crossing  over, 
she  not  only  took  the  offerings  from  Tabby's  hand, 
but  bestowed  a  hug  upon  their  bearer.  Peace  being 
restored,  Tabby  again  began  to  chirrup. 

"Look  here,  Ursula,  child,  I  hear  the  Colonel 
wants  you  to  go  to  some  of  these  merrymakings — 
'Starvation  Parties,'  don't  they  call  'em — the  young 
folks  are  getting  up.  Well,  of  course,  I  knew  you'd 
nothing  but  black  things,  and,  thinks  I  to  myself, 
what  will  the  darling  wear?  Then  I  remembered  the 
changeable  silk  I  wore  to  the  Christmas  Ball  at  Flower 
de  Hundred — it's  never  been  out  of  the  linen  pillow- 
case, since  then — fashions  alter,  of  course,  and  you're 
so  much  taller;  but,  with  gores  coming  in,  and  Polly's 
head  for  managin' — the  only  thing  is,  blue  is  not  your 
color  nor  purple  either,  with  your  skin — maybe  old 
Judith  can  get  something  for  it  at  the  Exchange — 
don't  open  it  till  I'm — can't  bear  to  think  of  those 
happy,  happy — four  dollars  a  yard  in  Baltimore  before 
the  scissors  were  stuck — speaking  of  Judith,  when  the 
Lord  makes  up  his  jewels  that  old  woman  will  be 
there — I've  found  out  'twas  she  that  paid  for  Peyton's 
funeral,  while  poor  Helen  was  lying  ill — " 

"Just  like  Judith.     When  she  first  got  the  place  as 


26o  FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED, 

manager  of  the  Exchange,  she  wanted  the  Colonel  to 
take  her  earnings;  and  when  he  refused  outright,  and 
Helen  did  too,  the  faithful  creature  fell  to  hoarding 
'against  a  rainy  day/  Our  people  have  been  fidelity 
itself.  Phyllis,  who's  hired  out  as  a  lady's  maid  at  the 
Annandales,  had  rather  have  starved  with  us  than 
leave  us.  Isaac  is  a  porter  in  the  Quartermaster's 
Department,  you  know;  but  when  his  work's  done,  he 
never  fails  to  come  in  of  an  evening  to  brush  the  Colo- 
nel's clothes  and  clean  his  shoes.  I  found  the  old 
fellow  almost  crying,  last  night,  over  a  big  patch  in 
one  of  Richard's  boots.  Jock  sticks  to  Miles  like  a 
leech,  and  when  our  darling  boy  complained  of  an 
empty  pocket,  recently,  offered,  in  good  earnest,  to  let 
himself  be  sold  to  set  Miles  up  in  cash.  Miles  told 
Jock  he'd  knock  him  down  if  he  opened  his  mouth 
again,  and  that  was  an  end  of  it." 

"Did  you  hear  the  story  of  Major  Carter's  Jim," 
asked  Ursula.  "He,  too,  under  the  stress  of  the 
times,  begged  to  be  sold  'for  a  good  big  price,  for  I'se 
a  fuss  class  waitah,  sah.'  'No,  Jim,  old  boy,  there's  no 
price  big  enough  to  buy  you,'  said  his  master,  'when 
you  leave  me  you  go  free.'  'Laws,  Marse  Gawge, 
who's  talkin'  bout  leavin'  you?'  answered  Jim,  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye.  'All  you'se  got  to  do's  to  put  me 
in  your  pocket,  and  git  along  out  o'  Richmon'  to  de 
camp.  Ef  I  turns  up  wid  de  army  a  few  days  arter, 
yoiise  not  sponsible,'  " 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  261 

"Well,  well,  well,  mustn't  stay  chattin'  here,"  said 
Tabby,  arising  to  depart.  "But  I'll  declare  to  gra- 
cious, girls,  I  was  forgettin'  to  tell  you  I've  had  a  let- 
ter from  Cousin  Maria  Crayshaw,  of  Rose  Hill — 
always  said  'twas  foolishness  to  talk  about  Miles 
courting  one  of  those  Crayshaw  girls,  when  'twas  only 
because  they  are  such  friends  with  BeH — what  do  you 
think,  Sally  Crayshaw's  made  Bell  promise  to  go  for  a 
visit  to  Rose  Hill,  and  Miles's  headquarters  are  not  a 
mile  away!" 

"Tabby  Hazleton,  you're  a  gossip,"  said  Miss  Light- 
foot,  with  a  sniff. 

"Oh,  come  now,  Polly,  Avhen  a  widow's  young  and 
pretty,  and  her  first  love  is  still — tongues  will  wag, 
and  everybody  says  it's  bound  to  be  a  match." 

"Miles  will  have  all  he  can  do,"  returned  Miss  Polly, 
quite  awfully  for  her,  "to  take  care  of  his  grand- 
father and  to  bring  up  the  ruins  of  the  place.  It  will 
be  a  long  time  before  he  can  think  of  marrying  any 
one.  And  I  must  say  it's  hardly  decent  to  talk  so, 
when  Bell  hasn't  left  off  wearing  crape." 

"Oh,  crape  don't  hinder!"  said  the  incorrigible 
Tabby,  "especially  in  war-times,  when  husbands  are 
husbands — don't  you  know — and  surely  when  she's  so 
young  and  unprotected,  living  on  from  day  to  day  with 
those  cousins  who  can  only  give  her  a  roof  to  cover 
her — and  Miles,  the  guardian  of  the  boy,  and  all — and 
naturally  wanting  to  make  amends  to  him — I  do  hope, 


262  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

Polly  Lightfoot,  if  such  a  thing's  to  be,  you're  not 
going  to  hump  your  back  up — I  just  know  the  Colonel 
would  take  it  the  right  way — and  Ursula,  who  is  so 
fond  of  Bell — Ursula,  child,  I  don't  like  to  see  you 
poking  a  coal  fire — nothing  destroys  the  skin  like 
Richmond  coal — my !  my !  what  zvill  Tom  say  to  me 
leaving  him  so  long?" 

"I  never  came  nearer  flying  into  a  rage  in  all  my 
life,"  declared  Miss  Polly,  when  they  were  left  alone. 
"Of  course,  Ursula,  j/^//  know  this  thing's  impossible?" 

"Impossible  to  make  Mrs.  Tabby's  left-off  finery 
adjust  itself  to  me?"  said  Ursula,  who  was  unpinning 
Tabby's  bundle.  "Cousin  Polly,  she's  the  kindest  soul 
alive.  Look  at  this  lovely  old  Mechlin  lace  she  has 
put  "in  with  the  silk." 

"Ursula,  sometimes  I  think  you  care  for  nothing 
but  the  Colonel  and  myself." 

"Oh,  but  I  do  I"  cried  the  girl  gayly.  "I  adore  old 
Mechlin  lace." 

Ursula's  mornings,  spent  in  writing  and  rewriting 
her  signature  upon  endless  series  of  slips  of  paper, 
bearing  the  superscription  of  the  Register  of  the  Con- 
federate Treasury,  were  not  intellectually  invigorating. 
But  the  pittance  of  salary  thus  earned  was  important, 
and  while  on  duty  she  was  surrounded  by  women, 
young  and  old,  most  of  them  called  by  historic  names 
of  England  and  Virginia,  many   of  them   sprung  from 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  263 

the  statesmen  who  had  cradled  the  Constitution  of 
the  United  States,  all  having  left  homes  of  comfort 
and  luxury  to  be  near  their  men-folk  in  the  struggle 
that  had  wrought  such  havoc  upon  their  fortunes. 
The  atmosphere  was  congenial,  elastic,  even  gay.  The 
same  element  of  fearless  vivacity,  born  of  Southern  soil, 
which  in  all  times  has  been  difficult  for  the  Northern 
mind  to  accept  as  anything  more  than  frivolity — and 
which,  among  the  grandes  dames  awaiting  death  by 
guillotine  in  the  French  Conciergerie,  sparkled  like  fire- 
flies in  the  dark — infused  their  industry.  Here  and 
there,  you  would  see  a  grave,  silent  worker,  clad  in 
black,  still  under  the  shadow  of  crushing  bereavement. 
Her,  the  others  respected,  spared,  lavished  little  tender 
words  and  acts  upon.  Some,  known  to  be  so  poor  that 
they  must  perforce  go  without  luncheon  in  order  to 
feed  mouths  waiting  for  them  at  home,  were  surprised 
by  benefactions  achieved  through  blessed  artifice. 
During  the  hours  of  official  service  all  sat  alert  and  busi- 
ness-like, guiding  their  rapid  pens;  but  at  the  moment 
of  relaxation,  such  a  loosening  of  the  flood-gates  of 
speech — such  trills  of  laughter,  such  gesticulations  by 
fair  hands;  such  eye-beams  and  blushes  over  General 
This  and  Private  That ;  such  charges  and  counter- 
charges, denials,  rebuttals ;  such  fluttering  gossip  over 
weddings,  where  the  bride,  happy  in  possessing  a  new 
homespun  frock,  gave  herself,  without  dowry,  to  a 
groom  owning  but  the  horse  he  rode  and  the  sword  he 


264  FLOWER  DE  HUiVDRED. 

carried,  as,  kissing  his  new-made  wife,  he  spurred  away 
again  into  battle ! 

On  the  day  following  Tabby's  little  skirmish  with 
Cousin  Polly,  there  was  in  one  of  the  dove-cotes  of 
the  Treasury  Department  much  discussion.  The 
whole  of  luncheon-time  was  taken  up  with  a  ball,  to  be 
held  at  the  house  of  a  new  member  of  the  "Starvation 
Club,"  new  also  in  the  sense  of  Richmond  conserva- 
tism, and  of  a  family  that  might  be  depended  upon  to 
introduce  at  supper  some  variation  of  the  menu,  here- 
tofore consisting  of  water  of  the  James  with  abundant 
attic  salt.  Many,  denouncing  in  advance  as  presum- 
tuous  the  suggested  innovation  of  ''refreshments,"  se- 
cretly determined  to  be  present.  It  was  even  hinted  by 
some  daring  spirit  that  the  host  might  be  intending  to 
test  the  temper  of  the  company  with  a  bowl  of  claret- 
punch,  but  this  was  dismissed  as  a  visionary's  dream. 

"One  thing  is  certain,  girls,"  declared  one  of  the 
acknowledged  belles;  "we  may  go  without  eating,  but 
the  exigencies  of  society  require  that  something  shall 
be  worn  !  Until  yesterday,  I  was  in  despair  for  a  party 
dress,  and  suddenly  my  good  spirit  gave  me  a  new  idea. 
Every  rag  I  own  has  been  so  turned  and  twisted,  one 
old  thing  trimmed  with  another,  that  nothing  original 
remains." 

"Excepting  original  sin!"   quoted  Ursula. 

"No  interruptions,  please.  When  you  see  what  I've 
evolved — and   provided  no  one  comes  too  near,  I'm 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  265 

pretty  sure  of  my  effect— you  will  all  be  wild  to  copy! 
It's  a  frock  of  mosquito  netting  looped  over  pink  cam- 
bric, with  paper  roses !  The  inspiration  came  to  me 
during  the  sermon  last  Sunday,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  and 
soon  after  hearing  that  divine  General  Throckmorton 
is  to  be  at  this  ball." 

"He  is  such  a  beauty!"  exclaimed  another  girl. 
"But,  Ursula,  if  you  tell  him  I  said  so,  I'll  get  even 
with  you,  never  fear." 

"He  has  such  a  don't-care-for-anybody  air,  it's  quite 
enchanting,"  cooed  a  third. 

"Oh,  my  dear  girls,  it's  breath  wasted  for  any  of  us 
to  talk  about  Miles  Throckmorton !"  said  Gracie  Gray. 
"Of  course  Ursula  wont  tell,  but  all  the  world 
knows  he's  wild  about  Mrs.  Dick.  Captain  Carter, 
who  came  to  town  on  furlough  yesterday,  told  me 
he'd  seen  them  riding  together  near  the  General's 
headquarters — she's  on  a  visit  to  Rose  Hill.  '  Bell 
Throckmorton  is  prettier  than  ever  in  her  hat  and 
habit,  Carter  says,  and  all  the  officers  are  pulling  caps 
for  her.  I  don't  know  how  you  others  find  it, — "  here 
a  melancholy  shake  of  a  very  pretty  head, —  "but  my 
experience  shows  that  these  old  cousinly  attachments 
are  the  worst  to  contend  against — "  another  shake  and 
sigh;  "I  know  it,  for  I've  tried." 

In  the  laugh  that  followed,  Ursula  escaped.  Turn- 
ing her  steps  that  afternoon  in  the  direction  of  the 
"Ladies'  Exchange,"  she  assured  herself  that  there,  at 


266  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

least,  she  would  be  free  of  the  mocking  specter  that 
so  persistently  dogged  her  path. 

With  Miles's  recovery  from  the  long  and  danger- 
ous illness  following  his  wound,  and  after  the  formal 
recognition  by  his  grandfather  of  the  young  man's 
rights  as  heir  of  the  estate,  a  new  condition  of  things 
had  arisen  between  the  comrades  of  lang  syne.  For 
reasons  known  only  to  herself  the  girl  withdrew  into 
a  shell  of  maidenly  reserve,  puzzling,  annoying,  and 
finally  exasperating  the  none-too-patient  Miles,  until 
he  had  vowed  not  to  belittle  himself  before  such  a 
creature  of  whims  again.  With  returning  health,  and 
the  lifting  of  the  weight  he  had  so  long  borne  alone, 
winning  a  soldier's  guerdons  with  every  onward  step, 
leading  a  life  so  crowded  with  stirring  incident,  he  was 
carried  by  the  rush  of  circumstance  continually  away 
from  her.  Only  Cousin  Polly  guessed — and  she  could 
but  speculate  in  silence — what  this  meant  to  Ursula! 

No  haunts  more  eloquent  of  war's  pervading  pres- 
ence were  to  be  found  throughout  the  South  than 
those  marts  instituted  in  many  towns  for  the  sale  or 
barter  of  the  wearing  apparel  of  needy  gentlefolks. 
That  in  charge  of  which  old  Judith  of  Werowocomico 
had  been  placed  by  some  benevolent  ladies  shrank 
away  into  a  quiet  side  street,  and  concealed  its  mossy 
roof  under  the  boughs  of  two  great  magnolias.  About 
its  chief  room,  long,  low-studded,  and  scrupulously 
neat,  there  hung  a  perpetual  odor  of  camphor,  sandal- 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  267 

wood,  attar-of-roses,  and  tonquin-beans,  as  if  the  cup- 
board-shelves of  a  legion  of  maiden  aunts  had  been 
emptied  and  aired  within  its  precincts.  Here  old 
Judith  would  unfold  and  display  to  trusted  customers 
an  extraordinary  variety  of  woman's  gear  and  orna- 
ments. State  robes  of  satin,  put  by  after  having 
made  their  curtsey  to  Queen  Victoria,  Empress  Euge- 
nie, or  the  ladies  of  the  White  House ;  silks  and  tarla- 
tans that  had  swept  the  ball-room  floors  of  Newport, 
Saratoga,  and  the  White  Sulphur  Springs ;  gauzy 
muslins  of  New  Orleans,  fashioned  by  the  skilled  fin- 
gers of  Olympe;  wedding-gowns  taken  from  silver 
paper  and  sent  away  from  home  with  tear-drops  in 
their  folds.  Flounces  there  were  of  Point  d'Alengon, 
like  frost-work  upon  the  window;  yards  of  Honiton, 
Mechlin,  Valenciennes,  and  Brussels  lace;  wraps  of 
earners  hair;  "marrowy  shawls  of  China  crepe,  like 
wrinkled  skins  on  scalded  milk,"  and  others  of  those 
Oriental  webs  that  are  tinted  like  pigeons*  blood 
rubies.  Then  Judith's  tawny  hand  would  unlock  the 
drawers  of  a  brass-bound  cabinet,  and,  untying  knots 
of  faded  silk,  touching  the  springs  of  tarnished  jewel- 
cases,  would  bring  to  light  fans,  parasols,  trinkets, — 
garnets  or  amethysts  set  in  seed-pearl  were  most  often 
seen,  and  discs  of  turquoise,  framed  in  yellow  gold — 
here  and  there  an  old  miniature  even,  courting  its 
equivalent  in  clothes  or  dollars. 

In  the  silence  of  the  embalmed  atmosphere,  in  the 


268  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

green  light  streaming  through  small  panes  of  glass,  a 
fitting  priestess  of  this  shrine  of  long  ago  was  the 
ancient  mulatto,  standing  always  in  the  presence  of 
her  guests,  wearing  the  turban  and  apron,  dropping 
the  old-time  reverence,  of  her  class — her  mild  eyes  full 
of  sympathy  in  the  exigencies  her  visitors  revealed — 
keeping  secrets  to  the  death — honest  in  rendering 
account  to  the  smallest  fraction  of  the  bargain's 
worth. 

Cousin  Polly  had  lost  no  time  in  despatching  to 
Judith's  mart  the  relic  given  by  Mrs.  Hazleton,  and 
the  old  woman  greeted  Ursula  with  a  smile  curbing 
welcome  news.  Already  a  customer  had  presented 
herself,  a  maiden  lady  with  a  taste  for  high  colors, 
offering  in  exchange  for  Tabby's  flamboyant  robe  a 
roll  of  India  muslin  that  had  been  lying  by  since  the 
spinster's  grandmother  had  danced  at  the  Richmond 
Assemblies.  With  a  keen  appreciation  of  its  artistic 
value,  Judith  drew  through  her  fingers  the  lovely  filmy 
stuff  with  its 'traceries  of  white  embroidery.  As  the 
mulatto  descanted  upon  how  the  gown  might  be 
made,  Ursula  felt  her  girl's  heart  beat  with  unwonted 
excitement. 

"Law's  sake.  Miss  Nutty,  I  aint  a  sayin'  it  to  flatter, 
but  you'se  grown  up  into  a  real  beauty,  and  wid  your 
lace  in  a  soft  full  ruffle  around  de  low  neck,  and  de 
same  thing  in  de  arms,  you  wont  need  a  speck  o'  trim- 
min',  take  my  word.      I  just  wan'  my  young  lady  to 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  269 

show  folks  what  ole  Flower  de  Hunderd  kin  turn  out. 
Time  was  when  all  de  plantation  thought  there  worn't 
no  beauty  to  hold  a  candle  to  Miss  Bonnibel,  but  if 
they'd  see  Miss  Nutty  now — And  so  Marse  Miles  is 
coming  to  visit  Marse  Richard.  Bless  de  Lawd,  that 
marcy's  spared  to  the  Colonel.  Miss  Nutty — fore  you 
go — it  aint  takin'  liberty  from  me  to  you — Is  it  true 
what  I  heard  de  ladies  in  here  a-yistidday,  say  bout 
Marse  Miles  gwine  to  marry  Miss  Bonnibel — it  aint 
true,  is  it,  chile?" 

Ursula's  exhilaration  took  immediate  leave  of  her. 
"How  can  I  answer,  Mammy,"  she  said,  trying  to 
speak  lightly,  though  her  words  seemed  framed  in 
lead.  "Don't  you  know  a  man's  family  are  the  last  to 
hear  the  truth  about  such  matters." 

"It  aint  fitten  for  me  to  pass  opinions,"  went  on  the 
old  woman.  "But,  chile,  when  I  think  what  a  little 
while  it  is  since  him  she  loved  was  cut  off  in  his 
youth's  flower, — and  besides.  Miss  Nutty,  honey — 
Miss  Helen  and  me's  so  often  talked  of  it  together — 
It  always  seemed  as  if — " 

Mammy  faltered  and  stopped  short ;  and,  Ursula's 
silence  inviting  no  further  discussion  of  the  theme,  she 
curtsied  and  said  good-by. 

"Am  I  never  to  cease  to  feel  the  goad  of  it?"  the 
girl  asked  herself,  as  she  hastened  home. 

No  heroine,  however  rent  by  sentimental  woe,  can 
fail  to    derive  consolation   from    the    knowledge    of   a 


270  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

moment  of  best  looks.  Ursula,  equipped  for  the 
"Starvation  Ball,"  stood  gazing  at  herself,  in  the  little 
bed-room  mirror  held  aslant  by  Cousin  Polly  to  afford 
a  fuller  view,  and  attended  by  five  Department  girls 
bristling  with  pins,  compliments,  and  suggestions. 
During  the  progress  of  the  frock  (made  at  home,  we 
may  be  sure),  these  generous  creatures  had  flashed  in 
and  out  of  her  tiny  cold  room,  begging  to  be  allowed 
to  hem,  to  pipe,  to  cord,  to  gather;  she  had  had  much 
ado  to  reject  their  offers  of  necklets,  ear-rings,  ban- 
doline, and  what  not ;  and  they  now  stood,  arms 
wreathed  around  each  others'  waists,  cheeks  flushed  in 
sympathetic  triumph,  in  a  living,  palpitating  chain,  to 
hail  her  Queen  of  Beauty. 

To  her  New  Orleans-born  mother,  Ursula  owed  the 
mat  tint  of  a  complexion  like  the  petal  of  a  cape  jas- 
mine that  by  candle  light  gleams  with  such  dazzling 
whiteness.  "Pale  comme  un  beau  soir  d'automne," 
Miles  had  said  of  her  once,  what  time  that  young 
gentleman  allowed  himself  to  drop  into  rare  compli- 
ment. Her  soft  dusky  hair  shaded  a  low  brow  and 
harmonized  with  the  hazel  eyes  that  could  look 
pathetic  as  a  wounded  fawn's,  then  gleam  with  sud- 
den sparkles  when  a  bright  thought  flashed  its  way 
across  her  brain.  She  was  tall,  erect,  moved  easily, 
and — surpassing  charm  in  woman — carried  her  head 
grandly  upon  her  shoulders — entering  a  room  with  an 
air   of   natural    supremacy   that    oftentimes   sent    into 


FLOWER   DE  HUNDRED.  27 1 

eclipse  some  piece  of  pink  and  white  prettiness,  till 
then  the  belle  in  general  estimation. 

Now,  in  her  clinging  draperies  of  misty  white,  the 
short  waist  zoned  with  white,  she  suggested  the  swan- 
necked  beauties  of  Napoleon's  court  at  the  period 
when  Josephine,  weary  of  heavier  stuffs,  ransacked  the 
Indies  for  webs  of  gauze  and  made  muslin  a  la  mode. 
Kissed  and  caressed  by  all  of  the  girls  in  turn  until 
threatened  with  the  death  of  a  fly  in  honey,  she 
gathered  up  her  train  and  running  down  the  stairs  to 
display  herself  to  the  Colonel,  threw  open  with  a 
flourish  the  door  of  the  sitting-room. 

"Enter  Madame  la  Duchesse,"  she  cried  gayly, 
sweeping  in  splendid  style  across  the  threshold  and 
halting  with  a  blush. 

For,  beside  his  grandfather's  chair,  drawing  the  dear 
old  man's  single  arm  around  his  neck,  knelt  a  stalwart 
soldier.  Miles,  who,  in  obedience  to  the  Colonel's 
suggestion,  had  delayed  after  arriving  in  town  long 
enough  to  make  his  toilet  for  the  ball,  was  not  pre- 
pared for  Ursula's  magnificence.  Both  men  rose  up 
to  do  her  homage.  Miles  vowing  inwardly  that  the 
sight  was  well  worth  coming  from  afar  to  look  upon. 

"No  one  told  me  you  had  come,"  she  said,  giving 
Miles  her  hand. 

"Why,  Cousin  Polly  knew,"  replied  the-  blundering 
soldier.  "By  Jove,  Ursula,  you  are  perfectly  stun- 
ning— isn't  she,  grandfather?" 


272  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

But  the  old  gentleman  had  disappeared  into  his 
dressing-room — returning  whence  he  displayed  a  case 
of  Avorn  blue  velvet. 

"I  had  meant  this  for  you,  Ursula — you  will  remem- 
ber, Miles,  it  is  mentioned  in  my  will.  It  was  my  gift 
to  my  wife  upon  our  wedding-day.  I  see  now  how 
much  wiser  it  is  to  let  it  adorn  your  youth,  than  to 
put  off  the  fulfilling  of  its  mission." 

Touching  the  spring  of  the  case,  Ursula  saw  for  the 
first  time  the  exquisite  string  of  pearls  of  which  she 
had  often  heard. 

'Tt  would  have  been  my  pleasure  to  clasp  them 
around  your  neck,  my  dear,"  the  Colonel  went  on  gal- 
lantly. "But,  seeing  that  I'm  disabled,  perhaps  Miles 
will  do  it  for  me." 

Ursula  gave  one  quick  imploring  glance  around  her 
for  Cousin  Polly,  who  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Then 
holding  herself  very  straight,  and  bending  toward 
Miles  with  much  the  air  of  a  sovereign  enthroned,  she 
allowed  him  to  perform  the  service  thus  enjoined. 

This'  dignity  affronted  Miles.  Why  could  she  not 
have  submitted  to  it  as  a  natural  thing?  He  had  half 
a  mind  to  back  out,  in  his  turn.  But  resolutely,  as  if 
marching  upon  a  battery,  he  took  the  chain  and 
snapped  it  around  her  slim  and  stately  throat.  A 
"drake's  tail"  curl,  escaping  from  the  hair  beneath  her 
knot,  became  entangled  in  the  clasp.  Ursula  ex- 
claimed impatiently  and  stamped  her  foot.     Trying  to 


FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED.  273 

loosen  the  tiny  curl,  it  entwined  his  finger.  Then  the 
big  soldier  drawing  away  brusquely  begged  her  par- 
don, and  left  the  affair  for  Cousin  Polly,  who,  bustling 
in  with  wraps,  put  an  end  to  the  situation  by  telling 
them  it  was  time  to  go  and  turning  both  young 
people  out  of  doors. 

Ursula  wondered  what  had  transformed  him  into 
such  a  lamb  of  meekness,  as,  walking  to  their  party 
after  the  Southern  fashion — (what  astonishment,  it  will 
be  remembered,  was  the  portion  of  a  French  noble- 
man enlisted  under  the  Confederate  banner,  when 
assigned  to  escort  a  young  lady  to  a  dance,  alone 
and  on  foot  through  the  streets  of  Richmond !  what 
eulogy,  afterwards,  of  her  admirable  bearing  "calme 
et  fiere  comme  une  squaw  dans  vos  forets  vierges," 
during  the  ordeal !) — the  cousins  kept  side  by  side  in 
silence. 

'Tt  was  nice  of  the  dear  old  fellow  to  give  you  that 
trinket  as  he  did,"  remarked  Miles,  finally,  with  an  odd 
tremor  in  his  voice.  "No  one  has  been  allowed  to 
touch  or  see  it  since  my  grandmother  died.  Some 
time  ago,  when  we  were  going  through  the  formalities 
about  my  taking  poor  Dick's  place,  he  mentioned  to 
me  the  family  tradition  concerning  it,  and  asked 
if  I'd  any  objection  to — I'll  swear,  Ursula,  you'd 
better  take  my  arm— you  stumbled  stepping  off  that 
curb." 

"No,  thank   you,  I   prefer  walking  alone,"  said   the 


274  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

young  lady,  who  congratulated  herself  that  she  had 
effected  a  diversion  at  this  point. 

"Just  as  you  like.  I'll  not  obtrude  myself,  of  course. 
As  I  was  saying,  it's  well  known  in  the  family  those 
pearls  have  been  given  by  the  eldest  son  to  his  bride 
on  her  wedding-day,  until  my  poor  father  broke  the 
record.  My  grandfather  told  me  it  was  his  earnest 
wish — as  a  token  of  gratitude,  you  know — to  give  you 
the  most  precious  thing  he  had,  and  I  quite  agreed 
with  him." 

Ursula's  pearls  seemed  to  burn  into  her  throat. 

'*It  wasn't  only  for  nursing  him,  he  said,  but  for 
what  you  did  for  me." 

"Miles,  I  forbid  you  to  mention  that  dreadful  day," 
the  girl  cried,  flaming  at  thought  of  an  intervention  so 
reckless  of  results.     "I  can't  bear  to  think  of  it." 

"It  almost  seems  as  if  you  have  been  repenting  ever 
since,"  he  answered  bitterly.  "As  if  you  begrudge  my 
having  presumed  to  be  alive.  Really,  Ursula,  you  are 
more  trying  than  you  know.  For  months,  it  has  been 
growing  worse  and  worse.  When  I  remember  my  lit- 
tle old-time  comrade  who  once  would  have  put  on 
page's  dress  to  follow  me  to  the  wars,  and  contrast  her 
with  this  cool  and  haughty  damsel,  I  think  the 
world's  turned  upside  down." 

No  answer  from  Ursula. 

"If  you  were  like  other  girls,  you'd  be  touched  by 
my  telling  you  how  I've  looked  forward  to  this  meet- 


FLOWER  BE   HUNDRED.  275 

ing.  Many  a  time  lately,  in  camp,  the  thought's 
come  to  me  of  your  sympathy,  and  I've  felt  as  if 
hard  lines  are  easier  to  bear." 

Ursula,  abandoning  her  defiant  march,  head  in  air 
and  keeping  her  distance  marked,  drew  nearer.  With  a 
quick  movement,  she  slipped  her  hand  within  his  arm. 

"That's  right,  you  little  duck,"  said  Miles.  "Now 
tell  me,  Nutty,  why  have  you  kept  me  at  arm's 
length." 

"If  I'm  a  duck,  it  is  you  who  are  a  goose,  Miles," 
she  answered ;  and  with  that  he  was  obliged  to  be  con- 
tent. 

"Well,  for  fear  you  should  go  back  again,  I'll  make 
hay  while  the  sun  shines,"  he  said  gayly.  "Don't  walk 
so  fast,  dear;   I've  something  I  want  to  say  to  you — " 

"It  depends  on  what  kind  of  a  something  it  is; 
whether  it's  worth  the  sacrifice  of  the  waltz  I  might 
be  having,"  she  replied. 

"It's  a  secret.  Something  that  I  have  told  to  one 
other  person  only — and  it  is ,  she  who  has  made  me 
think  you  will  care  to  hear.  You  know,  Ursula,  that 
I've  just  come  from  Bonnibel?" 

"I  know  it." 

"She  is  prettier  and.  lovelier  than  ever.  You  can 
understand  when  a  man's  been  boxed  up  in  camp  sur- 
rounded by  a  lot  of  rough  fellows,  and  hasn't  seen  a 
woman  of  his  own  kind  for  an  age,  what  an  angel  like 
that  must  have  seemed  to  me." 


276  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

"I  understand,"  said  Ursula,  feeling  faint  and  chill. 

"Well,  when  I  met  her  again,  and  came  under  her 
spell,  I  forgot  all  my  good  resolutions  to  keep  to 
myself  what  I  didn't  mean  to  let  get  the  upper  hand 
of  me,  as  things  are  now.  It  just  seemed  to  burst 
from  me — how  for  months,  I'd  been  letting  a  hope 
grow  in  my  heart  that  I  might  win  the  only  woman  in 
the  world  worth  living  for — her  whose  dear  sweet  face 
came  to  me  on  the  battle-field  when  I  lay  expecting 
death — good  God,  Ursula,  do  you  mean  to  say  it 
hurts  you  like  that  to  hear  it?" 

With  a  fiery  gesture  of  denial  the  girl  loosened  her 
arm  from  his.  They  were  passing  beneath  a  gas  lamp 
and  he  saw  the  first  look  upon  her  face  succeeded  by  a 
sort  of  pleading  to  be  spared,  like  that  of  some  dumb 
creature  wounded  unto  death. 

"Ursula — darling — speak  to  me,"  he  said  caress- 
ingly. 

"Not  now." 

"When?     Only  tell  me  when?" 

"I  think  you  have  overestimated  my — what  shall  I 
say? — capacity  as  a  confidante,"  she  stammered,  and- 
her  voice  sounded  in  her  own  ears  strained  and  thin. 
"Some  other  time,  perhaps.  Just  now,  I  am  bending 
all  the  energies  of  my  mind  to  the  consideration 
whether  or  not  our  entry  at  the  ball  will  be  well-timed 
for  the  display  of  my  new  frock.  I  am  quite  certain 
of  its  impression  on  Gracie  Gray!" 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  .       277 

Chilled  and  offended  by  her  flippant  speech,  Miles 
withdrew  into  his  shell  and  during  the  rest  of  the 
evening  gave  her  no  more  of  his  society.  When,  after 
a  prolonged  disappearance  from  the  gay  scene  that  in 
outward  show  managed  so  well  to  cheat  the  eye  of  a 
belief  in  war-times,  he  finally  emerged  from  the  con- 
servatory with  Miss  Gracie  Gray  upon  his  arm,  he 
found  Ursula  had  gone  home  with  other  friends. 

Meeting  him  next  day,  she  was  cool  and  bright  like 
one  of  the  December  days  they  were  then  passing 
through,  and  during  his  brief  holiday  gave  him  no 
chance  to  reopen  a  subject  he  was  in  sorry  humor 
to  discuss. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

His  first  transport  of  wounded  feeling  having  had 
due  time  to  subside,  Miles  had  recourse  to  Bonnibel — 
something  perhaps  on  the  principle  of  the  Confederate 
General  who  met  the  accusation  that  he  had  put  the 
South  Carolina  regiments  of  his  division  in  the  fore- 
front of  the  fight  with  the  declaration,  "Yes,  I'll  send 
you  to  the  front,  and  I'll  keep  you  there  ;  you  got  us  into 
this  fix;  and,  confound  it,  you've  got  to  get  us  out." 

Bonnibel,  who  with  her  boy  had  settled  down  fer 
the  winter  at  Rose  Hill,  heard  with  gentlest  sympathy 
the  young  man's  fuming  statement  of  his  wrongs  at 
his  cousin's  hand ;  and,  when  he  had  finished,  said 
with  a  deeper  rose-tint  upon  her  cheek  : 

**My  poor,  dear  Miles,  I  could  not  have  believed  in 
such  dullness  of  perception.  Unless  I  am  utterly  at 
fault,  your  affair  promises  all  that  you  could  hope. 
Trust  me,  there  is  between  you  and  Ursula  only  the 
shadow  of  a  shade  that  a  good  straightforward  talk 
will  dissipate." 

"It's  all  very  well  to  say  so,"  grumbled  the  General, 
"but  you've  no  idea  how  fierce  she  was,  and  then 
whipped  around  like  a  v/eathercock  and  treated  me — 
well,  there's  no  use  denying  I  was  taken  off   my  feet. 

278 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  279 

The  extraordinary  thing,  you  know,  is  what  she  meant 
by  it." 

"Write  and  ask  her,"  suggested  Mentor,  a  dimple 
showing  through  the  blushes  that  had  not  ceased  to 
come  and  go. 

This  very  simple  solution  of  a  mighty  problem  was 
by  the  young  officer  finally  adopted.  Sitting  in  his 
tent,  he  penned  a  long  and  manly  letter  to  which  the 
signature  alone  was  lacking,  when  an  orderly  put  into 
his  hand  a  batch  of  mail  matter.  Out  of  an  envelope 
addressed  in  Cousin  Polly's  familiar  hieroglyphs,  he 
took  a  note  written  by  Ursula: 

"Good-by,  dear  Miles;  when  this  reaches  you,  I 
shall  again  have  turned  my  back  on  Dixie.  I  go 
to-day  by  flag-of-truce  boat  to  Fortress  Monroe, 
thence  northward  to  be  with  my  poor  Aunt  Eleanor, 
who  is  dangerously  ill.  The  summons  came  to  me 
from  my  uncle,  who  has  made  all  arrangements  for  my 
journey.  When  we  meet  again,  you  will  have  for- 
given my  petulance.  Put  it  away  from  you  forever 
with  the  subject  of  our  last  talk,  and  let  us  be  again, 
as  always,  true  friends  and  cousins — God  bless  you, 
dear,  good-by." 

With  a  deliberate  movement  Miles  tore  the  letter 
he  had  written  into  bits,  and  putting  a  match  to  the 
fragments  watched  it  burn  away  into  tinder. 

Weeks  passed ;    and  by  Ursula,  again  plimged   into 


28o  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

the  absorbing  monotony  of  a  sick  room,  her  return  to 
the  South  ceased  to  be  thought  of  as  an  event  for 
which  a  date  could  be  reasonably  set.  Mrs.  Court- 
land's  death  was  followed  by  the  long  and  wearing 
illness  of  her  husband,  who,  broken  in  spirit  as  in 
health,  clung  like  a  child  to  Ursula. 

A  stronger  contrast  could  not  have  been  drawn  than 
between  the  luxurious  conditions  surrounding  her  pres- 
ent service  and  those  of  the  hospital  in  Richmond 
where  she  had,  inch  by  inch,  fought  to  wrest  her 
adoptive  father  from  the  grave.  Here,  with  servants 
at  her  call,  trained  nurses  to  succeed  each  other  in 
forestalling  the  sufferer's  demand,  she  was,  however,  as 
much  on  duty  as  in  the  former  case — this  duty  entail- 
ing a  sacrifice  of  personal  inclination  that  made  it  the 
more  severe.  Often,  when  pouring  out  the  costly 
stimulant  accepted  with  a  grimace,  or  preparing  the 
dainty  morsels  varied  to  tempt  a  capricious  appetite,, 
tears  filled  her  eyes  at  thought  of  the  meager  provi- 
sion for  the  suffering  at  home,  and  of  the  strong  aris- 
ing hungry  from  their  meals.  As  well  might  Dead 
Sea  apples  have  been  the  entrees  the  chef  continued 
to  provide  and  the  solemn  butler  to  set  forth  upon 
her  solitary  board ! 

Not  from  the  obsequious  bearing  of  the  servants  and 
employees  of  the  house  did  Ursula  discover  she  was 
now  looked  upon  as  the  heir  of  her  uncle's  wealth. 
The   first  knowledge  of  this  possibility  came  through 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  281 

relatives  of  Mr.  Courtland,  who,  volunteering  a  visit, 
did  not  scruple  to  attack  the  lonely  girl  with  charges 
of  interested  motives  that  wounded  her  to  the  quick. 
Bewildered,  and  driven  to  desperation,  she  made  her 
arrangements  to  set  out  again,  unprotected,  for  the 
South.  Mr.  Courtland's  excitement  upon  being  in- 
formed of  her  projected  movement  brought  on  a 
seizure — coming  out  of  which,  he  summoned  his  law- 
yer and,  after  sufficient  provision  for  his  relatives,  dis- 
posed of  the  bulk  of  his  fortune,  to  the  care  of  safe 
trustees,  for  "his  beloved  niece"  Ursula.  Then,  with 
piteous  appeals  to  her  charity  toward  a  dying  man  de- 
pendent for  all  happiness  upon  her  daily  care,  he 
wrung  from  her  the  promise  to  remain. 

Day  after  day,  sitting  in  a  dim  room  beside  the  half 
inanimate  figure  upon  the  bed,  her  heart  strained  at  its 
leash  in  longing  to  be  away  sharing  the  fears,  the  sor- 
rows, the  hardships  of  her  own  kin.  Kind  friends  were 
not  lacking  to  soothe  the  evident  anguish  of  the  girl, 
as  at  every  step  forward  of  military  affairs  it  became 
more  clear  that  might  was  crushing  the  effort  for 
Southern  independence.  Her  daily  snatches  at  the 
newspapers  were  like  stabs  in  a  fresh  wound.  And  at 
last,  in  the  very  hour  when,  holding  tightly  to  her 
hand,  praying  her  to  keep  by  him  till  his  feet  entered 
upon  the  valley  of  the  shadow,  her  uncle  left  her  free 
to  go,  the  news  came  to  Ursula  of  the  surrender  of 
Lee  to  Grant ! 


2»2  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

The  consternation  conveyed  by  these  tidings  to  her 
lonely  expatriated  heart,  was  shared  by  thousands  upon 
thousands  upon  whom  it  burst  with  overwhelming 
effect  within  the  limits  of  the  conquered  States.  Far 
and  near,  people  living  their  ruined  lives  in  ruined 
homes  refused  to  believe  it — crying  out  that,  as  in  the 
Lord  they  had  put  their  trust.  He  would  still  defend 
the  Right.  Some  bowed  to  earth  like  broken  stalks 
of  wheat,  others  sat  dry-eyed  and  obstinate,  waiting, 
watching  for  news  that  might  waken  fresh  hope  in 
fainting  spirits.  Not  until  the  soldiers  of  the  outnum- 
bered army  came  in  straggling  groups  back  to  their 
homes,  faces  telling  the  story  of  defeat  lips  could  not 
speak,  was  the  sentence  accepted  as  irrevocable. 
]\'Iany  of  these  men  had  for  nights  before  the  final 
scene  at  Appomattox  known  no  sleep,  and  were  at  the 
moment  of  stacking  arms  and  laying  down  their  tat- 
tered battle-flags  starving  for  the  food  supplied  them 
by  a  generous  victor.  But  whatever  expressions  of 
hate  and  rancor  were  uttered  then,  came  not  from 
the  men  of  either  of  the  armies  which  for  four  long 
bloody  years  had  faced  each  other  behind  guns  and 
musket  barrels.  After  the  surrender  was  announced, 
not  a  shout  of  triumph  went  up,  not  a  salute  was  fired, 
not  a  strain  of  martial  music  heard  in  the  camp  of  the 
conquering  army,  until  the  soldiers  in  gray  had  dis- 
banded and  had  gone  their  several  ways. 

Such    conduct,    taken    in   connection  with    General 


FLOWER  BE  HUNDRED.  2S3 

Grant's  allowance  to  the  Confederates  of  their  horses, 
side-arms,  and  personal  effects,  laid  firm  and  broad  the 
foundations  of  the  kindly  feeling  on  which  is  based 
the  Union  that  was  to  be ! 

To  old  Richard  Throckmorton,  in  Richmond,  had 
befallen  the  stirring  experience  of  sight  of  that  April 
day  of  the  capture,  when  the  blue  of  heaven  was  shut 
out  by  smoke-wreaths  that  rolled  up  from  the  burning 
town;  when  amid  the  explosions  of  doomed  war-ships 
in  harbor,  and  of  shells  in  the  forsaken  Confederate 
arsenals,  the  latter  unceasing  from  dawn  to  dusk,  the 
Union  troops  rode  into  Capitol  Square  and  planted 
the  Stars  and  Stripes  there,  within  a  wall  of  flame; 
when  the  householders  who  were  stanch  adherents  of 
the  Southern  cause  closed  the  blinds  and  shutters  of 
their  homes,  and  went  on  their  knees  behind  them  in 
mourning  for  the  dead ;  when  the  streets,  filled  with 
flakes  of  fire  and  tinder,  were  possessed  by  a  mad  mob 
of  marauding  whites  and  negroes  from  the  slums, 
joined  by  convicts  escaped  from  the  Penitentiary 
during  the  first  alarm — all  howling  and  chanting  in 
drunken  unison ! 

For  a  few  days  after  the  occupation  of  the  capital, 
there  existed  in  the  hearts  of  the  hopeful  a  belief  that 
"tout  est  perdu  fors  Thonneur  "  was  not  yet  to  be 
written  upon  the  Southern  flag.  Colonel  Throckmor- 
ton, who  had  been  in  the  confidence  of  the  leaders, 
now,  as  he  knew,  scattered  and  in  flight,  or  drawn  up  in 


284  FLOWER  DE  HUKDRED. 

the  last  ditch  to  face  the  enemy,  had  no  such  delusion. 
To  him,  surrounded  with  a  sorrow  that  made  all  the 
rest  seem  light,  came  a  soldier's  letter.  Written  in 
pencil  upon  a  coarse  yellow  sheet,  thrust  into  an 
envelope  of  w^all  paper,  and  stained  here  and  there 
with  blots  that  may  or  may  not  have  resulted  from 
exposure  to  weather,  it  has  survived  to  be  gazed  at  by 
a  younger  generation  to  whom  it  means  little  but  a 
picturesque  fragment  of  a  past  now  rapidly  blending 
with  forgotten  history: 

"Yes,  it  is  true,  dear  grandfather,  the  Army  of 
Northern  Virginia  is  no  more.  What  I,  personally, 
feel,  is  shared  by  some  seven  or^  eight  thousand. of  my 
brothers-in-arms  who  held  out  till  yesterday — we've 
fought  and  lost,  and  have  no  cause  to  droop  our  heads 
before  those  who've  overwhelmed  us,  though  I'm  not 
going  to  say  to  you  that  the  iron  hasn't  entered  into 
our  souls,  for  you  know  better.  But  when  I  think  of 
of  you,  and  the  class  you  represent,  it  seems  you  have 
the  better  right  to  bitterness  of  spirit — all  you  have 
given,  like  water  poured  upon  the  ground — your  poor 
right  arm — our  dear  old  Dick — your  home  and  fortune 
—  sacrificed  in  vain.  But  for  you,  I'd  be  off  to-morrow 
with  a  lot  of  the  fellows  who  are  wild  to  offer  their 
swords  to  Maximilian. 

"Last  night,  after  the  worst  was  generally  known, 
our  men,  having  got  some  rations  from  tJie  other  side, 
rolled  over  on  the  bare  ground,  and  fell  dead  asleep, 
like  logs.  For  some  days  past,  many  of  them  have 
done    their   duty  like   somnambulists, — pinched  faces. 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  285 

strained  eyes,  pallid  skin,  showing  the  continual 
marching  and  fighting,  without  sleep  or  proper  food. 
When  they  awoke  this  morning,  under  a  driving  rain, 
to  face  the  stunning  consciousness  of  the  surrender, 
the  poor  fellows  w^ere  refreshed  in  spite  of  themselves. 
All  around  me,  I  hear  talk  of  Svhat  I  intend  to  do 
when  I  get  home' ;  but  it  must  be  owned  the  prospect's 
blue  enough,  and  many  a  fellow  stops  short  and 
chokes  over  it.  Some  men,  who  during  the  whole 
four  years  have  been  continually  in  the  field,  go 
around  wearing  faces  that  are  a  sadder  sight  to  me 
than  death  from  a  bullet  or  a  saber  cut. 

'^Yesterday,  when  General  Lee  came  back  to  his 
headquarters  on  his  way  from  the  meeting  with 
General  Grant  to  settle  terms,  we  had  a  scene  no  man 
that  saw  it  is  likely  to  forget.  His  veterans,  as  they 
caught  sight  of  the  glorious  old  chief,  swarmed  around 
his  horse,  struggling  to  touch  the  General's  hand,  his 
clothing,  or  his  accoutrements.  There  was  an  attempt 
to  cheer ;  but  it  w^as  choked  by  the  lump  in  every 
throat.  He  shook  hands  as  fast  as  they  came  up,  and 
with  the  tears  running  down  his  cheeks,  said  these 
words :  'Men,  we  have  fought  through  the  war  together. 
I  have  done  the  best  I  could.  My  heart  is  too  full  to 
say  more.' 

"They  were  crying  all  around  as  he  rode  off  to  his 
tent.  I  remembered  Garibaldi  at  Palermo ;  but  this 
was  different.  Those  impetuous  Latins  expressed  the 
fervor  of  the  moment.  Our  fellow^s  had  followed  Lee 
and  tested  him  for  years ;  and  to  us  he  w^as  greater  in 
defeat  than  any  other  man  could  be  in  victory.  He 
looked,  sitting  upon  his  horse  in  the  full  uniform  put 


^^6  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

on  for  the  interview  with  Grant,  a  model  of  the  manly 
beauty  that  fires  the  popular  heart.  But  it  is  the 
moral  influence  of  the  Christian  gentleman,  one  felt 
most.  His  known  wish  that  the  troops  should  dis- 
band quietly,  and  going  back  to  their  homes  try  to  be 
good  citizens,  has  had  an  immense  effect  in  determin- 
ing the  temper  of  our  men. 

"Well — even  for  you,  it's  been  like  pulling  teeth  to 
get  this  much  out  of  me.  Perhaps,  when  in  a  few 
days  I  come  to  you  in  Richmond,  it  will  be  easier — 
'The  Last  Edition  of  Lee's  Miserables,'^  some  wag 
called  out  at  mess,  this  morning,  and  raised  a  sickly 
grin—" 

While  the  strains  of  martial  music  from  the  victor's 
military  bands  were  yet  echoing  through  Richmond 
streets,  a  spare  old  man,  sitting  a  rusty  horse,  rode 
slowly  up  the  avenue  of  Flower  de  Hundred  and  in 
at  the  iron  gates,  swung  back  upon  their  hinges  and 
overgrown  with  a  tangle  of  roses  and  honeysuckle 
vines  doing  their  best  to  conceal  where  the  finials  of 
both  granite  pillars  had  been  shot  away.  Dismount- 
ing unattended,  and  tethering  his  mare  to  graze 
beneath  a  tree — for  of  stable  or  outhouse  remained 
only  charred  foundations,  around  which  the  grass  grew 
lush — he  gazed  wistfully  at  the  ancient  walls  scarred 
with  bullet  marks,  at   the   line  of   window-frames  like 

*  The  army  version  of  the  title  of  Victor  Hugo's  "  Les  Miser- 
ables,"  one  of  the  few  new  books  printed  in  Richmond  during 
the  war. 


FLOWER  BE  HUNDRED.  287 

empty  eye-sockets,  at  the  yawning  space  whence  the 
old  oaken  house-door  had  been  removed  to  serve  as  a 
special  target  for  the  practice  shots  of  gunboats  on 
the  river.  Stepping  across  the  threshold  of  his  home, 
Richard  Throckmorton  stood  knee  deep  in  dead 
leaves  that  had  drifted  into  the  hall.  His  coming  dis- 
turbed birds  that  had  nested  upon  the  carving  of  the 
frieze  inside ;  and  by  his  cold  hearth-stone  a  red  squir- 
rel, bright-eyed  and  sympathetic,  paused  to  give  him 
welcome.  Of  the  paneling  once  lining  the  hall,  the 
greater  part  had  been  torn  away  by  soldiers  in  search 
of  imagined  treasure.  Half-way  up  the  stairs,  upon 
the  landing  where  a  cushioned  seat  had  been  the  pet 
lounging  place  of  merry  generations,  there  remained 
of  the  wide  window  once  above  it  a  single  pane  of 
glass,  bearing  the  names,  scribbled  with  a  diamond 
ring  by  little  Nutty  long  ago,  of  "Ursula  and  Miles." 

Standing  where  he  had  stood  on  the  Christmas  night 
that  had  seen  the  Yule-log  die  upon  Flower  de  Hun- 
dred hearth,  the  old  man  bowed  his  head.  Long  he 
remained  there  in  somber  reverie;  then,  hastily  going 
through  rooms  and  corridors  where  ghosts  of  remem- 
bered joys  haunted  the  heavier  furnishings  that  were 
left,  he  stepped  out  shivering  into  the  April  sunshine, 
and,  crossing  to  the  church-yard,  sat  down  upon 
Dick's  grave  and  sobbed  like  a  child. 

It  is  again  April,  and  a  year  has  passed  since  the  war 
drums  throbbed   no   longer  and  the    battle-flags  were 


2  88  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

furled  in  Old  Virginia.  In  the  chief  room  of  Timber- 
neck  Manor  House,  sparsely  fitted  up  with  chairs  and 
tables,  but  boasting  a  generous  fire  of  logs  in  its  deep- 
set  chimney  place,  three  men  had  assembled  for  their 
evening  meal. 

Around  the  walls  stained  with  damp  and,  despite 
the  efforts  of  faithful  Phyllis,  apt  to  be  garlanded  with 
cobwebs,  hung  the  most  valuable  of  the  family  por- 
traits once  seen  at  Flower  de  Hundred — a  cruel  stroke 
of  Fate  to  transplant  these  beribboned,  high-busked,  or 
periwigged  gentry  from  Kneller's  brush,  into  such  drear 
surroundings — where,  however,  Madam  Lydia  looked 
prettier  than  ever,  and  Ursula,  the  shepherdess,  made 
a  bright  spot  upon  the  scene ! 

Hither,  from  the  disheartening  ruin  of  Flower  de 
Hundred  which  he  had  actually  no  money  to  repair. 
Colonel  Throckmorton  had  retired  to  live  with  his 
grandson  Miles,  and  his  old  and  devoted  follower  and 
friend.  Parson,  late  Chaplain,  Crabtree. 

Duke,  the  Flower  de  Hundred  chef,  who  now 
caught  the  fish  he  cooked,  and  drummed  for  other  eat- 
ables as  indefatigably  as  did  Caleb  Balderstone ;  Jock, 
who  worked  out-of-doors,  and  kept  up  a  garden  plot ; 
and  Phyllis,  housemaid  of  general  utility — took  care 
that  the  creature  comforts  of  the  little  family  were 
not  neglected. 

In  the  absence  of  Cousin  Poll}^  forcibly  expedited 
by  the  Colonel  to  act  as  chaperone  for  Ursula,  now  by 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  289 

the  terms  of  her  uncle's  will  a  young  lady  of  indepen- 
dent means,  on  a  tour  through  Europe,  their  good  neigh- 
bor Mistress  Tabby  Hazleton  drove  down,  now  and 
then,  to  look  after  "Polly's  men  folks."  These  visits 
were  not  as  frequent  as  Tabby  and  Tom  might  have 
wished,  since  it  was  not  always  they  could  spare  a 
horse  from  the  plow  to  harness  to  Tom's  old  buggy. 
The  stalls  of  Honey  Hall  stables  were  an  empty  show 
in  these  days,  and  Tabby's  egg-shaped  yellow  chariot 
gathered  dust  in  the  locked  coach-house.  War  had 
not  withered  the  good  lady's  spirit  in  the  least.  Be- 
ginning life  over  again  as  humble  farmers,  she  and 
her  old  husband  were  in  their  courageous  activity  a 
lesson  to  the  community.  Tom,  brisk  and  cheerful, 
was  observed  to  show  signs  of  depression  only  when 
the  re-establishment  of  regular  passenger  service  on  the 
James  River  boats  restored  to  their  home  the  wander- 
ing Vashti,  who,  weary  of  state  as  "a  colored  lady  upon 
her  travels"  in  the  North,  promptly  took  up  again 
the  rod  of  authority  at  Honey  Hall.  The  most  vivid 
expression  of  Tom's  resentment  against  his  recent  foes 
was  because,  "Egad,  sir,  those  Yankees  hadn't  the 
spunk  to  hold  on  to  the  old  catermaran  after  they'd 
bamboozled  her  to  go  away  with  them !" 

Throughout  the  neighborhood,  smoke  was  curling 
from  disused  chimneys;  ex-soldiers  were  digging  their 
own  potato  patches,  or  hoeing  corn  beside  a  lin- 
gering "contraband";    women,  who    had    spent    their 


290  FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED. 

lives  in  the  wake  of  numerous  house  servants,  made 
butter,  baked,  swept,  sewed  from  dawn  to  evening, 
thankful  to  lie  down  to  rest  in  peace  near  the  rem- 
nant of  a  family,  out  of  hearing  of  those  awful  guns 
whose  echo  would  not,  in  years  to  come,  die  out  of 
memory. 

Miles  Throckmorton,  who  had  entered  upon  the  slow 
business  of  petty  farming  without  capital  or  a  sufficient 
staff,  very  much  as  a  war  horse  might  be  supposed  to 
see  himself  harnessed  between  the  shafts  of  a  country 
cart,  had  only  accepted  the  inevitable.  During  the 
lifetime  of  his  grandfather,  duty  and  inclination  must 
hold  him  alike  just  here.  By  contrast  with  that  of 
many  of  his  fellow  officers  scattered  penniless,  home- 
less, glad  to  secure  by  any  occupation  a  bare  subsis- 
tence, his  lot  was  indeed  one  to  be  considered  enviable. 
But  Richard  Throckmorton,  while  apparently  acqui- 
escent to  this  condition  of  affairs  for  Miles,  was  in- 
wardly grieved  and  fretted.  After  much  silent  cogita- 
tion, a  visit  or  two  to  his  man  of  affairs  in  town, 
and,  recently,  a  diligent  correspondence  with  the  same 
person,  the  Colonel  sat  down  one  evening  to  the  sup- 
per table  wearing  an  excited  face. 

Miles  and  the  Parson,  doing  full  justice  to  Duke's 
broiled  shad  and  tomatoes,  followed  by  a  ham  omelet 
with  waffles  and  such  coffee  as  would  have  sustained 
the  fame  of  a  Parisian  restaurateur,  saw  that  the  dear 
old  man  was  laboring  to  disclose  to  them  a  new  idea, 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  291 

but  forebore  to  urge  him  until  he  should  see  fit  himself 
to  broach  the  subject. 

When  the  table  was  cleared  away,  the  lamp  put  in 
place,  and  Miles,  throwing  himself  upon  a  horsehair 
couch  that  had  seen  better  days  half  a  century  before, 
shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand  and  fell  into  reverie,  the 
Colonel  cleared  his  throat. 

"Miles,  my  dear  boy,"  he  said  tenderly,  and  then 
came  to  a  halt.  Something  in  the  relaxed  lines  of  the 
young  man's  vigorous  frame,  the  rough  clothes  he 
wore,  his  resigned  abandonment  of  the  place  for  which 
nature,  society,  and  education  had  fitted  him,  thus  to 
lead  the  life  of  a  clod,  without  a  future,  and  lacking 
present  alleviation,  touched  the  old  boy's  gentle  spirit 
with  a  keen  regret  that  for  a  time  unfitted  him  to  speak. 

The  Parson,  seeing  the  turn  of  affairs,  threw  himself 
into  the  breach,  and  led  the  conversation  off  to  the 
usual  subjects  of  men  of  their  condition  at  the  time — 
the  political  outlook  of  the  reunited  States,  the  future 
of  Virginia,  the  question  of  the  negroes,  the  more  than 
probable  absorption  of  the  old  Southern  element  into 
that  civilization  of  the  masses  that  gave  the  mighty 
North  its  power;  they  deplored  the  confusion  of  ideas, 
the  straits  and  stresses  of  the  hour,  that  appeared  to 
bewilder  so  many  of  their  friends  in  their  desire  to 
know  which  way  it  was  best  to  turn ;  and  then,  as  was 
generally  the  case,  fell  to  fighting  their  battles  over 


292  FLOWER  BE  HUNDRED. 

again  till  the  dull  room  glowed  with  the  scenes  they 
had  conjured  up. 

"Bodykins!  Master  Page,"  quoted  the  Parson,  put- 
ting down  his  pipe,  to  get  up  and  walk  the  floor  with 
his  hands  beneath  his  coat-tails.  "Though  I  am  now 
old  and  of  the  peace,  if  I  see  a  sword  out  my  finger 
itches  to  make  one — though  we  are  justices  and  doctors 
and  churchmen.  Master  Page,  we  have  some  salt  of  our 
youth  in  us;  we  are  the  sons  of  women.  Master  Page." 

The  Colonel  laughed,  Miles  caught  the  infection  and, 
pulling  himself  together,  sat  up,  and  laughed  too. 
-  In  that  favorable  moment,  the  Colonel  ventured  to 
introduce  his  bombshell. 

*T  did  not  happen  to  mention  to  you,  did  I,"  said 
the  gentle  deceiver,  "that  I've  sent  my  letter  to 
McPheeters,  telling  him  I  have  decided  to  close  with 
his  client's  offer?" 

"Grandfather !" 

"My  dear  sir!"  said  the  Parson. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Colonel,  with  composure.  "No 
good  could  come  of  delay.  We  have  talked  of  it  long 
enough.  The  money  will  put  life  into  the  barren 
'  acres  of  Timberneck,  and  patch  up  this  old  barracks 
into  something  like  a  home.  I  reckon  in  a  day  or  two 
we  shall  hear  the  new  owner's  name." 

"It's  for  me  you've  sold  Flower  de  Hundred,  sir.?*' 
cried  out  Miles,  in  a  husky  voice. 


FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED.  293 

"My  dear  child,"  said  the  old  man  very  lovingly; 
"if  you  knew  how  glorious  youth  seems  to  me,  how 
brief  its  season,  how  much  more  important  the  devel- 
opment of  a  human  life  to  do  good  in  its  genera- 
tion, than  any  mere  sentiment  for  what  is  past,  you'd 
believe  that  I  don't  regret  it.  Besides,  we  Virginians 
have  been  taught  a  stern  lesson  in  this  war — to 
put  away  what  has  been  done  for  us,  and  to  do  in 
our  turn  what  our  descendants  may  point  to  with 
pride.  I  don't  want  our  line  to  drop  with  you.  Miles; 
and  I  can't  suffer  you  to  rust  in  such  a  scabbard  while 
I  have  means  to  prevent  it." 

"But  what  a  price  to  pay !"  exclaimed  his  grandson. 

"A  very  good  price  for  a  shell  like  that,  as  prices  go. 
I  told  McPheeters  not  to  press  it,  if  his  client  thought 
the  sum  too  high,"  answered  the  Colonel,  purposely 
misunderstanding.  "I  fancy  the  new  owner  will  be 
either  some  sentimentalist  from  the  North  who  is 
enamoured  of  our  lawn  and  trees  seen  from  the  river, 
or  some  Richmond  man  of  another  stripe  from  us,  who 
has  saved  money  during  the  war,  and  wants  to  invest 
in  something  'old  and  settled.'  No  friend  of  ours 
could  afford  to  buy  anything  in  the  way  of  real  estate 
just  now,  that's  certain." 

"I  fear  so,"  said  the  Parson,  breaking  into  the  con- 
versation with  a  sudden  hollow  groan.  "My  dear  sir, 
the  plantation  was  represented  in  the  first  representa- 
tive   legislative   assembly    in   America,    convened    at 


294  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

'James  Citty  in  Virginia,'  July  30,  1619;  was  in  the 
next  generation  acquired  by  your  ancestor,  and  has 
never  since  been  out  of  the  family.  Is  it  not  a  mat- 
ter to  be  weighed  and  measured — are  there  not  other 
means — could  not  a  sufficient  sum  be  obtained  for 
present  uses  by  mortgaging — " 

"Since  it  came  into  the  family  there  has  been  no 
mortgage  on  the  estate,  my  good  Crabtree,"  answered 
the  Colonel  mildly;  "and  even  if  it  could  be  done, 
which  fs  unlikely,  I  think  you  should  know  my  views 
on  that  subject  well  enough  to  be  sure  I  shall  not 
be  the  first  to  shadow  the  old  place  with  debt.  No, 
no,  my  mind  is  made  up,  and  let  no  more  be  said. 
There  was  an  offer  for  such  furniture  as  still  remains 
there.  Miles;  and  as  we  have  no  room  for  it  elsewhere, 
you  will  oblige  me  by  going  over  at  once,  to  make  an 
inventory." 

"Wouldn't  they  buy  in  these?"  cried  the  young 
man,  the  vein  in  his  forehead  swelling  as  he  pointed 
to  the  portraits  on  the  wall;  "and  the  silver,  and 
books?  and  King  Charles'  medal  might  fetch  a  fine 
price  at  some  dealer's  shop  in  Broadway." 

"Not  till  I'm  underground.  Miles,  lad,"  answered 
the  Colonel,  with  a  forbearing  smile. 

Miles,  standing  in  the  leaf-strewn  hall,  gazed  about 
him  ruefully.  He  had,  at  his  grandfather's  bidding, 
come  over  from  Timberneck  to  make  note  of  the  fur- 


FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED.  295 

niture  stored  in  the  wings  of  which  old  Judy  kept  the 
keys,  the  main  building  having  in  chief  part  fallen  a 
sacrifice  to  war.  So  sacred  was  to  him  the  idea  of  his 
last  ramble  through  the  dwelling  no  longer  his  inheri- 
tance, that  he  had  purposely  avoided  letting  Judy 
know  of  his  presence  until  his  first  emotion  should  be 
spent. 

The  squirrel  tenants,  whose  tribes  had  increased, 
scuttled  tamely  about  his  feet.  From  a  smoke-tree 
crowned  with  roseate  bloom  near  the  open  door,  he 
heard  the  spring  song  of  a  cardinal  bird,  who  with 
scarlet  helmet  and  jet  black  whiskers  made  a  glorious 
bit  of  color  amid  the  surrounding  green.  He  remem- 
bered his  efforts  once  to  catch  and  tame  one  of  these 
wild-wood  beauties  of  Virginia  for  little  Ursula,  and 
how  she  had  cried  over  its  dead  body,  and,  with  Vic 
as  chief  mourner,  made  it  a  royal  funeral.  Every- 
thing spoke  of  Ursula.  Recalling  her  name  brack- 
eted with  his  on  the  broken  pane  in  the  landing  win- 
dow, he  resolved  to  rescue  and  bear  away  with  him 
the  token  of  her  trustful  girlhood,  when  to  her  he  was 
all  in  all — but,  strangely  enough,  when  he  looked  up  for 
it,  the  pane  was  gone,  and  had,  as  the  marks  showed, 
been  recently  and  carefully  removed! 

Miles  went  back  to  his  post  to  wonder.  By  a  coin- 
cidence he  paused,  uncertain,  on  the  very  spot  where, 
at  the  Christmas  Eve  ceremonial  "before  the  war," 
Ursula  had  come  to  him  of  her  own  accord,  lookino- 


296  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

into  his  face  with  a  sorrow  she  could  not  speak.  Ah ! 
why  had  she  so  changed  that  when  he  offered  her  his 
heart  in  manly  fashion  she  should  flout  and  forsake 
him,  in  a  pet?  And  now  that  there  was  between  them 
the  great  gulf  fixed  by  her  new  wealth,  it  was  doubly 
and  trebly  hopeless.  But  all  the  same,  in  him  there 
had  been  no  change ;  there  could  never  be  any 
change. 

A  brisk  patter  on  the  leaf  carpet  caused  him  to  look 
around,  and  Miles  saw,  running  toward  him  from  the 
dining-room,  her  bonnet  askew  and  her  cheeks  as  red 
as  cherries,  the  immortal  Cousin  Polly ! 

"Miles,  my  own  dear  boy!"  she  cried,  hugging  and 
kissing  him,  "I  was  never  so  glad  in  all  my  life  be- 
fore ;  when  I  spied  it  out  there,  I  knew  the  horse  in  a 
minute.  That  willful  girl  of  mine  is  so  bent  on  mys- 
teries— we  came  down  here  like  thieves  in  broad  day- 
light, I  told  her — what  she'll  say  to  me  for  telling  on 
her,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know — but  now  that  she's  got 
the  place,  it  can't  matter  so  very  much — Yes,  indeed, 
from  Baltimore  to  Richmond,  and  down  the  river 
almost  without  a  stop,  so  wild  she  was — directly 
McPheeters  telegraphed  her  that  her  offer  had  been 
accepted." 

"My  dearest  Cousin  Polly,  you  are  getting  me 
deeper  into  the  mire.  I  don't  understand  you  in  the 
least.  I  thought  you  and  Ursula  were  in  England. 
It    never  occurred    to    me    that  she — answer  me    one 


FLOWER  DE   HUNDRED.  297 

question,  only,  to  set  me  straight — is  Ursula  McPhee- 
ter's  client?" 

''Indeed  and  she  is,  and  a  pretty  time  I  have  had 
keeping  the  secret.  After  Richard  refused  to  take  a 
penny  of  her  money,  as  a  loan  or  otherwise,  she  was 
nearly  ill  with  disappointment.  Then  the  idea  of  buy- 
ing Flower  de  Hundred  possessed  her.  She  said  it 
broke  her  heart  to  have  to  make  the  ofTer  as  from  a 
stranger.  We  came  from  England  three  w^eeks  ago, 
because  of  a  letter  from  the  lawyer  saying  he  had  no 
doubt  of  her  immediate  success.  This  morning,  when 
we  left  Richmond  in  the  boat,  she  was  so  excited  I  was 
afraid  people  would  think  I  had  charge  of  somebody  a 
little  'off.'  My  dear,  I'm  that  thankful  to  see  you, 
and  the  old  place,  even  if  it's  like  this.  She's  going  to 
put  everything  exactly  as  it  w^as  before,  she  says,  ex- 
actly;  only  what  is  absolutely  necessary  is  to  be  new. 
And  how's  my  darlin'  Colonel — and  the  Parson — I  can't 
rest  till  we  get  over  to  Timberneck;  but  Ursula  says 
not  until  to-morrow;  we  are  to  camp  out  here,  to- 
night. I'll  tell  you  what  it  is.  Miles,  now  you  are 
here,  I  verily  believe  if  you  ask  Ursula  she  will  let  us 
go  to  spend  the  night  at  Timberneck,  for  how  I'm  to 
stand  not  seeing  Richard  till  to-morrow,  passes  me." 

"You  dear  little  soul,"  said  the  young  man,  touched 
by  her  affectionate  incoherence.  "You  may  be  sure  I 
shall  do  my  best." 

"Go  look  for  her,  then ;  she's  out  somewhere — good- 


298  ^     FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

ness  knows  where.  She's  been  sittin'  this  half  hour  on 
a  cricket  in  Judy's  cabin,  listening  to  the  old  woman 
talk  of  you.  Miles,  my  dear — if  I  only  dared!  If  I 
only  knew  what  it  was  that  passed  between  Ursula 
and  you  !  We've  had  a  letter  from  Bonnibel,  telling 
of  her  engagement  to  Colonel  Chamberlayne — not  the 
Chamberlaynes  of  Gloucester,  but  still  an  admirable 
man,  and  they  say  wealthy,  and  poor  dear  Bell  seems 
so  happy — and  now,  Ursula  cant  keep  on  thinking 
that  you're  going  to  marry  Bell!" 

Cousin  Polly,  in  her  excitement,  had  let  a  cat  of 
respectable  dimensions  out  of  the  bag,  and  stood  back, 
rather  alarmed  by  the  expressions  succeeding  each 
other  upon  her  hearer's  face. 

"So  it  was  that !"  he  cried,  for  a  moment  exultant. 
Then,  at  once,  a  cloud  came  over  him. 

"Listen,  Cousin  Polly,"  he  said,  after  a  short  pause ; 
"I  have  loved  Ursula  and  wanted  her  for  my  wife  for 
so  long  I  don't  even  know  when  it  began — but  I 
would  no  more  ask  her,  now,  than  I  would  put  my 
hand  into  the  fire.'" 

"Dear,  dear,  why  did  she  go  to  all  the  trouble  and 
cut  her  finger,  too,  to  get  that  pane  of  glass  out,"  said 
vexed  Miss  Polly.  "But  the  least  you  can  do.  Miles, 
is  to  go  to  look  for  her." 

Miles,  who  for  a  despairing  swain  was  in  a  strangely 
exhilarated  mood,  laughed  and  obeyed.  Only  to  look 
at   her  seemed    such    a  glorious    prospect,  the   conse- 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED.  299 

quence  was  naught !  He  found  her  leaning  over  the 
decrepit  fence  of  the  home  paddock,  stroking  the  nose 
of  old  Orthodoxy,  who,  in  his  lean  and  shambling  age, 
had  been  consigned  to  this  haunt  of  clover.  Miles 
saw  her  kiss  the  star  in  the  old  charger's  forehead,  be- 
fore, hearing  his  footstep,  she  turned  and  ran  forward 
to  meet  him  with  a  face  of  exquisite  delight. 

There  is  none  to  say  how  it  came  to  pass  that  Miles 
renounced  his  stern  resolve  to  leave  Ursula  to  spinster- 
hood,  for  him !  They  were  certainly  made  man  and 
wife  within  a  reasonable  time  after  this  interview. 
Nobody  thought  of  consulting  the  only  eye-witness — 
Orthodoxy — and  the  old  horse  has  lain  these  many 
years  under  the  daisies,  with  an  inscription  on  a  board 
set  over  him  to  state  that  "for  his  faithful  service  in 
carrying  General  Miles  Throckmorton,  when  wounded, 
from  the  battlefield  of  Gaines'  Mill,  this  tablet  is 
erected  by  the  General's  loving  sons."  The  execution 
of  this  work  of  art  is  original,  and  the  spelling  hardly 
reflects  credit  upon  the  boys'  preceptor,  a  seedy  old 
man  who  adored  them  and  was  never  happy  when 
they  were  not  tagging  at  his  heels. 

The  lads  in  return,  loved  Parson  Crabtree  dearly. 
But  there  was  one  who  in  that  reunited  household  had 
the  best  tenderness  of  every  heart.  The  Colonel  lived 
to  a  great  age,  and  preserved  his  vigor  of  body  and 
sweetness  of  nature  to  the  last. 


300  FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED. 

Among  the  guests  who  to-day  come  and  go,  as  of 
old,  at  Flower  de  Hundred,  the  Throckmortons  have 
lately  welcomed  Colonel  Cunningham,  the  English 
volunteer  in  half  a  dozen  wars,  a  grizzled  oldster  now, 
whose  tales  of  adventure  in  various  lands  the  boys  find 
particularly  to  their  taste. 

Miles,  the  oldest  son  of  Miles  and  Ursula,  who  has 
no  love  of  farming,  talks  of  going  to  Mexico  to  be  a 
civil  engineer.  Their  second  son,  Dick,  has  a  scheme 
for  reclaiming  the  overflowed  marsh  lands  on  the 
estate  and  putting  them  into  wheat,  which  will  keep 
him  occupied  at  home.  Their  daughters,  two  charm- 
ing young  women,  everywhere  admired,  have  been 
recently  upon  a  visit  to  their  relative,  Mrs.  Chamber- 
layne,  one  of  the  ornaments  of  the  fashionable  world 
at  Washington,  where  her  husband  holds  high  place. 
There  is  gossip  about  a  match  between  one  of  the 
Flower  de  Hundred  girls  and  young  Guy  Throck- 
morton, who  made  such  a  hit  in  some  land  speculations 
in  the  far  West  the  other  day,  and  who  may  come  East 
to  settle  after  all. 

Mrs.  Hazleton  still  lives  at  Honey  Hall.  Since  the 
death  of  old  Tom  she  has  comforted  her  loneliness 
by  filling  the  house  with  ailing  people  who  'need  a 
change,'  and  'poor  things  whose  fortunes  were  ruined 
by  the  war.'  Helen  Willis  opened  a  school  for  girls, 
which  has  continued  to  do  well;  old  Judith  lives  with 
her,  of  course.     Many  of  the  Flower  de  Hundred  ser- 


FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED.  ZO\ 

vants  came  back  at  the  close  of  the  war,  and  asked  for 
employment  on  the  place.  Those  we  have  seen  more 
closely  associated  with  the  family,  resumed  their  re- 
spective industries  about  the  house. 

Flower  de  Hundred  looks,  to-day,  very  much  as  it 
did  before  the  war — and  so,  for  that  matter,  does 
Cousin  Polly ! 


THE  END. 


THE   ANGLOMAINIACS. 

A   Story  of  New  York  Society  To-day. 

By  MRS.  BURTON  HARRISON. 


I    Volume,    i2mo,    on    Extra    Fine    Laid    Paper,    Dainty 
Binding,  $i.oo. 


This  is  the  story  that  has  attracted  such  wide  attention  while 
running  through  the  Century  Magazine.  There  has  been  no  such 
picture  of  New  York  social  life  painted  within  the  memory  of  the 
present  generation.  The  satire  is  as  keen  as  a  rapier  point,  while  the 
story  itself  has  its  marked  pathetic  side.  Never  has  the  subject  of 
Anglomania  been  so  cleverly  treated  as  in  these  pages,  and  it  is  not 
to  be  wondered  at  that  society  is  deeply  agitated  as  to  the  authorship 
of  a  story  which  touches  it  in  its  most  vulnerable  part. 

"This  delicious  satire  from  the  pungent  pen  of  an  anonymous  writer 
must  be  read  to  be  appreciated.  From  the  introduction  on  board  the 
Etruria  to  the  final,  when  the  heroine  waves  adieu  to  her  English  Lord,  it 
is  life,  real,  true  American  life,  and  we  blush  at  the  truth  of  the  picture. 
There  is  no  line  not  replete  with  scathing  sarcasm,  no  character  which  we 
have  not  seen  and  known.  .  .  ,  Read  this  book  and  see  human  nature  ; 
ponder  upon  what  is  there  written,  and  while  it  may  not  make  you  wise,  it 
certainly  will  make  you  think  upon  what  is  a  great  and  growing  social 
evil." — Norristown  Daily  Hetald. 

"  The  heroine  is  the  daughter  of  an  honest  money-making  old  father 
and  an  ignorant  but  ambitious  mother,  whose  money  has  enabled  the 
mother  and  daughter  to  make  their  way  into  the  circle  of  the  '  Four 
Hundred.'  "— iV.  Y.  Herald. 


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Mr.  Ward  McAllister  needs  no  introduction  to  the  American  public.  His 
name  is  a  household  word  from  one  end  of  this  country  to  the  other.  For  forty 
years  he  has  been  a  conspicuous  man  of  fashion,  and  for  twenty  years  and  more  he 
has  been  a  leader  of  society  in  New  York  and  Newport,  and  he  is  known  far  and 
near  as  the  inventor  of  "  the  four  hundred."  In  this  book,  which  is  delightfully 
written,  Mr.  McAllister  gives  his  experiences  in  the  social  world,  and  his  pages 
sparkle  with  reminiscence  and  scintillate  with  humor.  He  gossips  pleasantly  of 
the  '•  smart  set,"  and  while  thus  recounting  his  experiences  he  deftly  weaves  in  an 
amount  of  information  on  the  manners  and  customs  of  good  society  that  is  not  to 
be  found  elsewhere.  An  important  feature  of  this  book  will  be  the  appendix  con- 
taining fac-similes  of  visiting  cards,  invitations,  acceptances,  regrets,  etc.,  etc., 
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